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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581543">Heaven Hath No Fury</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Harvord/pseuds/Lily_Harvord'>Lily_Harvord</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, King's Cage AU, This is trash, Trash taken seriously, Universe Alteration, but its makes me happy, just mare and maven banters and hitting each other over the head pretty much, listen I just like writing pregnancy AUs okay?, please dont sue me, very very AU, very very indulgent time consuming trash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:28:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>61,725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Harvord/pseuds/Lily_Harvord</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>HOW DOES ONE SUMMARY?????!!<br/>Mare Barrow is in Maven’s clutches, withering away under Silent Stone. But one mistake returns to haunt her, placing her in a dangerous position while turning her entire life into a dangerous game of bargains with a king who holds all the cards.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mare Barrow &amp; Maven Calore, Mare Barrow/Tiberias "Cal" Calore VII</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is pretty much Song of Fire (take 2!) For those of you who remember my song of fire fic from almost two/three years ago, you will be pleased to know I decided to rewrite it. And by rewrite, I mean start from the drawing board. This is a completely different timeline, and story line. I hope you guys enjoy! (keep in mind this is so self-indulgent it’s actually trash. Like it’s somehow more self-indulgent than Song of Fire, and if that fic was trash that definitely makes this trash. But it’s trash that makes me happy. SO enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PART 1</p><p>            Sitting on the edge of the tub, I feel like I’m floating in the all-white bathroom. It’s so sterile, so clean. I want to draw blood from somewhere just to smear it on the walls and bring color into this place. Or at least provide proof that someone is here. It’s a pointless exercise. If I stand, I’ll collapse on useless legs. A month with Silent Stone and I’ve never been weaker. Not even when my family was in the worst of the winter and I hadn’t eaten in weeks.</p><p>            Still, I’m like a boat set adrift in the sea. If I could touch my lightning, if I could just brush my fingers through the barest spark, I might feel in touch with where I am. It would anchor me in the storm of my thoughts. For now, the only thing anchoring me to reality is my feet pressing into the freezing marble. Even that link is tenuous though.</p><p>            The room does a slow tilt as my equilibrium shifts. I’m starting to slide to the side, my body unable to handle the pressure of the silent stone any longer. My hand latches onto the side of the tub, and my vision swims, but for a different reason. A few burning tears break and roll down my cheeks. I swipe at them, trying to dispose of the evidence. There’s still a chance that the impossible isn’t happening. Who am I to say what is possible or impossible anymore though? I am an impossibility. I have defied any and all known laws of physics, and there are hundreds like me now too. I have doomed them to my fate.</p><p>            Silent Stone is tough on the body too. It smashes against me like waves on a cliff face, wearing me down a little more every day. That could be the reason. It could be completely normal that I skipped. It could be the silent stone. Yes, that is logical, that has to be the truth. Every other possibility is an impossibility.</p><p>            Pressing to my feet, I wobble on unsteady legs, the manacles on my wrists and ankles like weights dragging me down further into the deep. I grab the doorframe to the bathroom, exhaling sharply when I misjudge the distance to it in my dazed state. My shoulder catches painfully on it, sending sparks of pain down my arm. It’s the first real thing I’ve felt all morning though, and I relish in the sensation.  </p><p>            Kitten’s eyes roll down from the ceiling to glance me up and down from her lounging position by the empty fireplace. Egg is nowhere to be seen. Funny enough, I will take this demon of a woman over him today.</p><p>            “I need…” I’m breathless, unable to get the next words out. The oppressive weight of my own fear and the silent stone swallows them.</p><p>            Her brows almost disappear into her hair line as she watches me start to slide down to my knees. My head is spinning, and my heart beats erratically in my chest. A stubborn bird fighting against its bony cage, looking for a way to break out.</p><p>            She snaps to her feet when I collapse to my hands and knees, sucking in weak gasps to feed burning lungs. I’ve never felt this weak, but over the past few days, the strain of the stone had somehow doubled. Maybe it’s finally doing me in.</p><p>            “Healer, a healer.” I wheeze as black spots start to envelope the edge of my vision.</p><p>            Her boots pound across the floor on the edge of my senses, before the door is opened and she calls down the hall for a healer. I suppose fate is waiting for this moment, because immediately there is the patter of light feet to answer her call.</p><p>            Cool hands brush my hair off my neck, and a delicate voice urges Kitten to help me into the bathroom. Kitten’s rough hands replace the long, delicate fingers and I’m manhandled into the bathroom away from the cameras, and away from Maven’s eyes. If he sees me die, he may never recover. This healer is smart if she knows that.</p><p>            The scent of lavender envelopes me as I’m pressed against the marble wall. It feels good on my burning skin, and provides another anchoring point. Cool hands rest on the sides of my neck as fingers press into either side, searching for a pulse.</p><p>            Her voice floats in and out as I dance on the edge of unconsciousness. “Weak... get… remove them!”</p><p>            The manacles disappear, and I am lying on the floor while cool hands press to my chest, my temples, my neck, searching for the source of the problem to alleviate it. A rush of the healer’s power washes through me. Like a balm it soothes my tortured lungs, and calms my racing heart. My vision slowly returns, until the darkness is replaced by blinding white. A face swims into focus, and it takes me a moment to place it.</p><p>            Wren. One of Sara Skonos’s many cousins, and one of Evangeline’s confidants if I recall. Her hair falls in a halo of darkness around her, framing her eyes until they are the only thing I can see. Dark, concerned, terrified. It’s not hard to know why.</p><p>            Her lips move slowly, but the ringing in my ears in the aftermath of everything keeps me from discerning what she says. Eventually, a few words come through though.</p><p>            “Can… up…? Can…hear me? Blink.”</p><p>            I blink slowly, and her entire being relaxes, the tension rolling out of her and rushing over me through her hands in another healing wave. I groan in response, trying to push her away. Her hands latch onto my shoulders as she lifts me herself and her eyes dart to the doorway where Kitten waits with baited breath, her face pale and her eyes the size of small saucers.</p><p>            It’s her watch. If she lost me, Maven would take her head… and the head of anyone she surrounds herself with. I’ve never seen her afraid.</p><p>            Wren doesn’t bother with her, and instead turns her entire attention on me. Her hands brush along my shoulder again as she closes her eyes. I latch onto her wrist as Kitten backs out of the doorway, exhaling in relief.</p><p>            The young healer’s eyes snap open and dart to my own as I croak, “What was it?”</p><p>            “Strain. Your heart almost gave out.” She whispers, her lips pursing as she closes her eyes again and squeezes my shoulder. Her ability stretches from that point of contact, spreading like the branches of a tree along every muscle, every nerve, every bone. It grows until it fills every part of me, then it grows leaves that fan out in search of the more minute issues.</p><p>            Those branches shift as she trails her fingers down to the center of my chest. Her face pinches and she tilts her head to the side as that tree flips upside down, and grows roots that creep up through my throat.</p><p>            Her eyes snap open a second later though and she pulls her hand back like I shocked her. I wish I had done that, but I can barely feel my lightning. It sits like a storm on the horizon, just out of my reach, even as I try to coax it to the surface.</p><p>            “Impossible.” She whispers and then delicately rests her hand just below my stomach. I try to squirm away, knowing instantly that my hope for another outcome was misplaced. She doesn’t close her eyes this time as she searches, growing a smaller tree in my abdomen with branches like fine toothed combs.</p><p>            “The manacles aren’t causing the strain.” She whispers, more to herself than to me. I don’t need to be told what is causing the strain she is referring to.</p><p>            “Get it out.” I murmur, and her eyes narrow a fraction. She explores for a second longer, before drawing her hand back slowly and rising to her feet. I glare up at her, refreshed from her healing, even if my ability to fight is still diminished. “Get it out.” I repeat, but she begins to pace in front of me.</p><p>            “You haven’t been here long enough, it’s not possible. It’s not possible, unless—”</p><p>            Her hand rises to her mouth as if she can physically hold her next words in. Those dark eyes widen at the realization that crosses her mind. I try to push to my feet, but my arms shake and I end up almost on my side again. I’ve lost all my strength in the weeks that I’ve been here. The one thing I could still rely on has left me too.</p><p>            She whips around for the door, and the panic that shoots through me might as well be lightning. It fuels every muscle like a battery being overloaded, allowing me to spring into action.</p><p>            “<em>No</em>!” I scream at her back and scramble up to tackle the back of her legs. She hits the marble floor with a cry of pain. I press her to the floor, and while she is physically stronger than me right now, I have the element of surprise. She tries to catch her breath but her chest hitches under my hands.</p><p>            “Get it out, <em>get rid of it</em>.” I spit in her ear, the words fed by a fear so primal I want to press them into her skin until they’re tattooed there. Until the only thing she can think of is complying with my wish.</p><p>            Calloused hands grab me and yank me off of Wren and toss me into the corner like a rag doll. Wave after wave of silence washes over me until my vision goes completely white, and I scream, begging for it to stop.</p><p>            “Stop! Stop you’ll kill it!” The waves stop, leaving me curled on the ground and shaking like a leaf.</p><p>            <em>You’ll kill it. </em>I need more silence, that's how I escape this. I try to rise to my feet but only manage to prop my chest up. My eyes lock with Kitten’s and I spit out saliva threaded with blood from biting my cheek when I hit the wall. “Hit me again.”</p><p>            Her eyes widen, and Wren steps between us, holding her hands out as she begs. “Get the King, tell him it’s urgent.”</p><p>            My heart actually stops in my chest. A strangled sound leaves my throat as Kitten backs away slowly, uncertainty flashing across her face. If she leaves, if she brings <em>Maven</em>, I will never be able to escape this.</p><p>             I need to tackle Wren again; I need to get Kitten to hit me so hard I actually fall unconscious. But my legs won’t cooperate. All the healing Wren did was erased by a few seconds of punishment. My head grows so heavy I end up having to rest my forehead on my arms. Buried in the safety of that darkness, I feel the crushing weight of desperation. I won’t cry though. I won’t be puffy eyed and sobbing when I face Maven. Not this time.</p><p>            Wren’s shoes make scuffing noises as she paces, her voice low and unintelligible as she panics. We both know what this means, what this horrific knowledge will do. She has to know what it will do to me, what it will do the Scarlet Guard. I don’t even want to think about what it will do to the country.</p><p>            “Please,” I breathe, and her pacing stops. I force my head up, pain lacing down my neck as I crane it and pull on the scars that I will never remove for as long as I live. “Please don’t tell him.”</p><p>            She takes it like a slap in the face. Her skin flushes and she stammers at the blatant lie I ask her to tell. She shakes her head and goes back to pace.</p><p>            Something dark chews on my stomach. It’s not panic, it’s not desperation either. I don’t want to know what it is though, because it branches from the terrible truth I am now burdened with. “You <em>can’t tell him</em>.”</p><p>            She waves my words away, like I’m a gnat she’s trying to ignore. I push myself up, groaning as I do so. I struggle to get on my knees, but I am being fed by a strength I have never been able to touch until now and I sit back on my heels. My head spins, but I force myself to stay upright. “If you tell him, he will kill it. He will cut me open himself.”</p><p>            It’s like speaking to wall, a wall that is oozing anxiety. She gnaws on a thumb nail, her eyes darting left and right. Is she weighing my words? Is she weighing her options?</p><p>            I never get to find out. The door opens, and two sets of boots enter. My heart starts pounding so hard I fear he may hear it from out in the bedroom.</p><p>            Once at the Notch, I watched Kilorn and Kenna stalk a rabbit. It had sat deathly still in a clearing, its ears turned in their direction like it could actually sense their presence there. I understand that little rabbit now. Waiting for the end, knowing that it is just on the edge of my perception and there is nowhere to run.</p><p>            When he steps into the bathroom, Wren stops pacing and stands to her full height. His eyes scan over her and then, like I am the sun and he is an unfortunate planet caught in my gravity, he moved toward me. His brow raises when he takes in the sight of me, on my knees, my skin pale and my hair a mess of tangles.</p><p>            Even though it’s pathetic, I shuffle to the bathtub and grab the edge to pull myself back onto the edge. I won’t take this on my knees. I bargained with him from that position before. I won’t let it happen again. Not when so much hangs on it.</p><p>            His eyes scan my wrists, and then narrow before scanning the room and landing on the manacles tossed in a different corner.</p><p>            “Surely your work could have been done with those on?” His voice is icy, sharp like the fine blade he walks these days. His moods are as terrifying as his person. I should know, I’ve faced more than a few of them.</p><p>           “Her heart… it was… it was failing.”</p><p>           His brow raises. “I was told that her heart was fine recently. What could have possibility changed?”</p><p>           “There’s a…” her hesitation gives me a thread of hope that perhaps she heard my pleas and understood them. That hope is dashed like a shattered glass when I realize she was only looking for the right way to explain her findings. “There was a stressor that was missed.”</p><p>           “A stressor? She was put through the Sounder and it didn’t kill her. What could possibly be causing a problem now?” Maven snorts, his eyes dancing to me and lighting like blue fire. He drags them over me, as if looking for the strain Wren speaks of. He won’t see it, not now.</p><p>          “Please,” I breathe to her, but she drops her chin to avoid my eye, confirming her intentions.</p><p>          “She’s with child.”</p><p>          The room that was once icy cold burns so hot that I actually choke when I try to inhale. The air fries the inside of my throat, and Wren backs away as well, panic flaring in her eyes. She should have let me die in the doorway. His rage would have been quick then. It won’t be quick now.</p><p>          Even though he is burning the room and the air around me, his gloves are freezing and he smells like fresh air when he invades the space I inhabit. He was outside when they found him. What I wouldn’t give to have been there too.</p><p>          The leather gloves he wears smell like must, like they’ve been packed away for a long time. But I almost lean into the cool touch of them when he grabs my chin, relishing in how they chase away the fire he brings with him. With him standing over me, I realize what it would be like to stand directly before the sun.</p><p>          He changes the trajectory of his hand quickly, and those long fingers dig into the hairs behind my head. With a yank, he pulls my head backwards until I can look nowhere but up at him.</p><p>         “I will give you one chance to tell me a very good lie.” He whispers, his eyes smoldering. His gaze burns hotter than Cal’s ever did and I can’t meet it. I look to the chandelier above our heads, willing it to fall from the ceiling and crush us both.</p><p>
  <em>        You’re only alive because I haven’t burned the oxygen from this room.</em>
</p><p>         I believed Cal’s threat, and something akin to ice creeps into my stomach when I realize that Maven would follow through on a threat like that, even if Cal didn’t.</p><p>         “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.” I reply, forcing strength into my voice so it doesn’t waver. It’s not what he wants to hear. His fingers tighten on my hair, almost ripping it out by the roots. I watch as the mask disappears and I’m left facing the monster Elara created. The monster I created when I killed her and removed the only dam holding it back.</p><p>        He leans down as I close my eyes, his breath icy on my ear. I shiver as his words brush on the curve of my ear, and stir the little hairs that he has pulled loose. “I should have killed him.”</p><p>        My entire skin erupts in gooseflesh as he pulls away from me and sucks all the heat back into him. The bathroom is colder than ever before. I almost imagine frost to form on the mirrors as he reigns in the monster, pulls it to heel at the same time that he pushes the mask back in place. It’s still in his irises, stalking like an animal pacing the bars of a cage.</p><p>       His mind turns over possibilities and options like coins right before my eyes. He never stops looking at me though, and I wonder what he sees. I cannot read him, not when the mask is up.</p><p>       Slowly, a calm resolve comes over him, like a tide coming in after a storm. His lips curl up into a gentle smile, one that scares me more than his anger. “Congratulations Mare, you must be so happy.”</p><p>       My hands shake, and I narrow my eyes as I look him over. The game has changed, and I don’t know the rules anymore. My anchor beings to slip, and I feel the winds pulling at my sails, ready to yank me back out to sea.</p><p>      “I’m sure there will be a number of people excited to know of this wonderful occasion.”</p><p>      Wren looks just as confused as me, as her lips pull down in a frown. Maven is just getting warmed up though, and he is a master performer. Sweeping his arms wide like he truly is wishing me the best, he bares his teeth in a sneer. “Motherhood will suit you.”</p><p>      Understanding settles like a sheet of frost over me. He’s found a punishment worse than death for me.</p><p>      I’ve never begged for anything in my life, and doing so now feels like spitting bile.</p><p>      “Please.” My legs can’t take their own weight and I end up on my knees, until my hands have to support me too. Maven’s boots pass in my peripheral vision, and his voice is cold as he speaks to Wren. Like her name sake, she flitters toward the sink and counter, away from the fox stalking her.</p><p>      “It is possible for both of them to survive?” Through the hairs that have fallen out of my braid, I brave a look at Maven’s back. He’s never looked so tall, so cold. He belongs in rooms like this, surrounded by white and cold marble. If he’s not careful, he’ll bleed right into the walls. Only his black suit sets him apart.</p><p>            Wren’s eyes dart to me, and then back to him. I let myself roll to the side and brace against the side of the tub. The impact on my shoulder sends a shock wave of pain through my chest. Her dark eyes continue to watch me, and I hope she sees what I need her to see. I need her to lie, I’ll cover up the evidence. I’ve told many lies in my life, this will just be one more.</p><p>            “It would… be dangerous, especially for her. If the manacles stay on the strain may be too much on her heart again.” She drops her eyes to her folded hands, avoiding Maven’s gaze. In the mirror I see his lips pull down into a frown. He can’t afford to lose me, but he can’t afford to take the manacles off either. I hate that I am relying on him to make a selfish decision.</p><p>            “How long would the manacles need to be off per day?” He advances another step, and Wren looks up under dark lashes, shock splashed like paint across her face. His lips pull in a cold smile as he clarifies. “For you to maintain her health.”</p><p>            She hesitates, and in that moment I draw my knee up and brace my forehead on it. The silent stone is weighing heavier and heavier by the minute. My stomach twists and turns like a fish on land. I’ll vomit all over the marble floor if I have to sit in here much longer.</p><p>            “I would have to test how much time I need, but for now, I can estimate three hours.”</p><p>            “Done.” Maven waves his hand and turns to leave. As he passes me, I catch the scent wafting off his coat. It burns down my throat, and reminds of a river boat and a promise.</p><p>            “No,” I sob as I lunge, my fingers trying to grab at the fabric as it trails behind him. I miss though, and end up sideways on the floor. Panting, I crane my neck and choke, “don’t make me do this. <em>Don’t. Make. Me. Do. This</em>.” My chest shudders on every sob, and my voice breaks on every word. My mind is already reeling, thinking through hundreds of possibilities. The windows are locked, but I could ask for them to be opened and throw myself from it before anyone can react. The bathtub, I could drown myself in it. That might be the most realistic option.</p><p>            Leather brushes against my chin as his fingers close around my jaw and lift my head. Each breath I take is a horrific effort, slicing through my throat and down into my belly. Those eyes that haunted my dreams in the Notch bore into me now, so much more real than they have ever been. If I had the strength I would gouge them out to avoid ever looking at them again.</p><p>            With his other hand, he brushes my hairs away from my face, the touch so delicate it might as well be a caress. “I couldn’t have thought of a more fitting punishment than this. Take a mother, become a mother. It’s poetic, don’t you think?”</p><p>            I jeer, and bring my fist up weakly to swing. He catches it though, and squeezes my fingers once, then twice. Like a silent code. It means nothing to me though.</p><p>“If you think there aren’t other ways to get rid of it, you’re wrong. I know more ways to get rid of this thing than you could dream of.” My words are low and jagged.</p><p>            With a raised brow he whispers, “Even if this is the last bit of him you have left? The last bit of the outside world you will never have again?”</p><p>            I have no reply, no quick witty remark. I’m in free fall, tumbling through space so fast my stomach drops. There is nothing for me to hold on to as I spiral. The bathroom spins around me, and I end up taking another ragged breath to keep from losing sight of what is before me.</p><p>His lips quirk up at the corners before he lets his eyes dance up to Wren. The silk of her pants whispers as she answers his silent beckon. “Wren will see to it that you remain in pristine health. You’re bearing the heir to my brother’s kingdom, we can’t have you preventing a dynasty.”</p><p>            Those words seem to drag me back to the surface. I inhale so sharply my throat actually aches. I struggle against him too, but he grips my chin tighter, the leather in his gloves creaking as he does so. It draws a whine from me as he presses so hard I worry he may shatter my jaw.</p><p>            Leaning close, he lets his lips brush against the curve of my ear. “You have nowhere to go. No one is coming this time.” Pulling away, he drops my chin and rises from his crouch, his words now are for Wren. “The Arvens will make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. You on the other hand, are responsible for the health of this child. If she fails to carry to term, or if it doesn’t live past the first night, you’ll pay the price.”</p><p>            Wren’s cold fingers wrap around my arm like a vice and the soothing brush of her ability rushes to my aching muscles, pushing back the effects of the silent stone. As she bows her head, her hair falls in a lavender smelling curtain at my side. “I will do everything in my power, Your Majesty.” Her words might as well be a death sentence.</p><p>            Maven doesn’t even acknowledge her vow. He simply turns on his heel and departs from the bathroom.</p><p>            I won’t go down without a fight. I wasn’t lying when I said I knew more than one way to get out of this situation. Throwing Wren backwards off of me so that she lands on her back with a gasp, I tear after him. The Arvens step in my way and I dodge, almost hitting the dresser as I careen towards Maven’s back while he closes the door behind him.</p><p>            I reach him too late. The heavy door to my prison snaps shut and the lock engages. Slamming into it with my shoulder, I scream at the top of my lungs. I’m a storm let loose, even if I have no lightning.</p><p>Gripping the handle, I try to pry it from the wood, sobbing as I do so. I’ll beg him, I’ll do anything to stop this future from unfolding. I have to save myself from what is to come.</p><p>            It takes a few minutes for me to tire. The Arvens do nothing, but I can hear Wren whispering quietly to them, relaying instructions most likely. With a wheezing sob, I slide down against the door, one hand still weakly grasping the handle while my other catches my head. “Please,” I choke as I squeeze my eyes shut, “<em>Please</em>.”</p><p>            There’s no use begging a king though. I should have learned that lesson a long time ago.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PART 2</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            The heart of winter brings some comfort. I can’t loath being locked up, because it’s warm there. Huddled under the blankets of my bed, I watch the fire as it roars in the grate. Shadows dance on the walls, and from her seat in the corner near the door, Kitten looks less like a women and more like a ghoul. No surprise there though.</p>
<p>            My book lies abandoned next to me on the crumpled sheets. It’s one of Julian’s old ones, covered in his beautiful scrawling script. I’d torn up the previous shelves months ago, throwing the pages and covers around the room until I’d collapsed in the middle with my head in my heads. After a failed escape attempt, I went to do the same thing, only to start tearing the first page and see Julian’s penmanship. It had been like being doused with water. A quick inspection of every book told me these came from a private collection. Priceless. They were utterly priceless. And a sign from Maven. He could box me in further if necessary. That didn’t stop me from throwing a glass every now and then, especially when he sits in that chair by the fire and watches me.</p>
<p>            I’d started reading Julian’s books late one night when I couldn’t sleep. They were dense enough volumes that I often fell asleep reading them, or trying to that is. The content was boring enough in some of them that it put me to sleep in minutes. Others, I devoured. The one next to me was one of the former. I had half a mind to ask for more. That would be admitting defeat though. Admitting that I was starting to like my prison walls. The books might be taken away then. They’re all I have left now.</p>
<p>            A flutter near my hip makes me sit up right. My pulse quickens and I try to maintain even breaths so I don’t startle Kitten into bringing Wren. She had already been here earlier today for her bi-daily inspection. It’s late in the evening now, way past the time when she would come to complete her second, and all I want to do is sleep. I can’t seem to quiet my mind enough though. Part of the reason were those flutters. They had started a week ago. Horrifically, they have become stronger and more prolific with every passing day. It wouldn’t be long before they are a true kick.</p>
<p>            <em>Stop.</em></p>
<p>            It don’t want to think about that. About what the flutters and weird movements I feel at night mean. Every visit from Wren is like another tick of the clock, reminding me that I am failing. That I can only be resolved to this fate.</p>
<p>            I’d tried every trick in the book. And had never been successful. My final attempt had been the Cohosh tea trick my mother had mentioned once years and years ago. I’d gotten as far as getting the tea poured before Wren tore into the room like a tornado, ripping the cup away before I could swallow a mouthful of it. After that, my food and drink we monitored at all times. Wren selected everything from my breakfast to the water I drank. That day, I’d shattered my knuckles punching the bathroom wall. Three minutes and they were healed though. Wren followed Maven’s order to the tee.</p>
<p>             Ultimately, I had failed. Not just myself, but whatever was growing inside of me. It would have faced a better, blissful fate if I had succeeded with the tea. With any of my attempts really. My failures mean that it will someday face Maven too. A part of me cowers from that, but another part that scares me far more, is already raising its hackles to fight. My mother would call it motherly instinct. I don’t want a motherly instinct though. I don’t want <em>any </em>of this if I’m being perfectly honest.</p>
<p>              Another flutter, this one much stronger, and in the same place. Grimacing, I shove the blankets back, earning Kitten’s undivided attention as I stand. Her dark eyes follow me toward the fireplace, and she half rises from the chair as I pause in front of it.</p>
<p>              I can’t do anything though. With a simple thought, she can throw enough silence around me to knock me out cold. Cameron could have done it with less than a thought.</p>
<p>             My mind wanders to that girl now. Besides reading, all I do is think, go over my mistakes, mourn a lost brother, and regret anything and almost everything. My biggest regret lately is bringing Cameron into this at all. I hope she’s safe. I hope that she’s with her brother. That they found him and he’s healthy, and alive. Unlike mine.</p>
<p>            If it’s a boy, I’m naming him Shade. I decided that weeks ago. In the dark of the night, buried under blankets on the verge or dreams.</p>
<p>           Wrapping my arms around myself, I squeeze to stay off the creeping loneliness that arrives every time I think about my brother. The effects of my body’s efforts do not go unmissed anymore. Under my thick shirt, my abdomen is rounding, growing with the thing inside of me. Wren told me with a smile weeks ago that Calore babies are big and strong. She didn’t have to tell me that though, I’ve seen Cal.</p>
<p>
  <em>          Cal.</em>
</p>
<p>          I try to not think of him these days. Thinking about him brings an ache that usually ends with me huddled under the sheets with a pillow between my legs, stifling quiet sobs. He’d be just as terrified as me if he knew what was happening. Hell, he might even feel worse than I do for putting me in the position. It wasn’t his fault though. I wanted one night to forget, one night of distraction. He’d obliged in a spectacular fashion, and the world had melted away for those few hours in the murky darkness of his room in the Notch. Afterward, while we had laid there panting, he had whispered loving words against the skin of my shoulder, and hugged my back tightly to his chest. Like I might disappear if he let go. By the morning I was already out of the bed roll and moving as if nothing had happened. We hadn’t talk about it, or what the things he said meant.</p>
<p>         I wonder if he would have agreed to my request knowing this was the outcome.</p>
<p>         Another flutter distracts me from chasing down the thought. Biting my lip, I drop a hand to the heaviest part of my stomach.</p>
<p>         “So restless tonight.” I whisper only to pull my hand away immediately, shock and disgust coursing through me. It’s too eerie. It can’t hear me. I’m talking to no one.</p>
<p>         The door creaks open, and I glance over my shoulder as Wren steps in, behind her a servant waits with her head bowed.</p>
<p>         “Good evening.” She says as she glances toward Kitten who snorts in response to the greeting. I turn back around in response, wishing I had managed to fall asleep so that I didn’t have to face those coy smiles and gentle hands. She’s gentle because she’s afraid to break me, to bruise me in a way that Maven might take as a threat. He’s already threatened Kitten for manhandling me too hard.  I can’t imagine what he might do to Wren with her delicate, willowy frame. She would shatter like chine on stone if he got his hands on her.</p>
<p>         Heels click on the floor and the smell of lavender engulfs me. “Good evening Mare.”</p>
<p>          “Repeating yourself won’t make me say it back.” I grumble before paces away from her and heading for the window. It’s childish to run away. There is only so many times Kitten will let me race around the room before she grabs me and forces me to sit down for Wren.</p>
<p>         “I thought pregnancy made women motherly and sweet.” Kitten crones from her position. I glower at her in response, but don’t deign to give her a response. She goads me as much as I do these days. For a while it had been a game, a means of digging my claws in somewhere to prove I still had them. Now, it grates on my nerves.</p>
<p>          The servant sets down a tray on the table, and steps back with a bow. She’s probably my mother’s age judging by the lines in her face. Underneath her lashes, her eyes keep darting up to me. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking, or what rumors are flying around the servants’ passages. Afterall, I’ve been here long enough that it could be Maven’s. I shudder at the thought, even as my stomach growls at the smell of the food. I won’t be poked into Wren’s observation though, and instead lift my leg to climb up onto the window ledge and perch myself there. It’s my small safe haven. I can pretend to be alone when I sit up here.</p>
<p>          Outside, the little garden my room overlooks is frozen over a buried under a few feet of snow. A Greenwarden could easily maintain it, but what would be the point? They would just have to go back out every morning and do it all over again. But useless things like that make the Silvers happy I suppose.</p>
<p>          “How are you feeling?” Wren floats toward me, the white light of the falling snow cutting across her face.</p>
<p>          She’s beautiful, maybe even ethereal. I wish I could say the same. I look like a corpse she keeps trying to reanimate. Even with her constant care, my eyes are sunken, and my skin is paling. While my abdomen is swelling, the rest of me is wasting away little by little. It’s the byproduct of when I thought that starving myself might work, coupled with the effect of the manacles. I had tried my hand with that old technique too, but Wren had <em>tsk</em>ed at me and done her job anyway. I couldn’t ignore the hunger pains forever, and I eventually ate everything she put in front of me. It was a slow recovery though.</p>
<p>          Turning my eyes back out to the garden, I rest my temple against the glass. It burns with the cold, and my breath fogs up the glass. I reach up to draw a pattern in it.</p>
<p>          Wren is nothing if not patient. She could wait out a roaring river drying up if she wanted. She folds her hands in front of her and stands next to me, overlooking the garden too. “It’s lovely isn’t it?”</p>
<p>          “If you like that sort of thing.” I could snort at the stupidity of her small talk. She’s better off trying to goad me to come sit down and eat so she can do another inspection. I plan to be obstinate for a little while longer though.</p>
<p>          “Your baby will be born in the spring. Isn’t that nice?”</p>
<p>          “Not if I have anything to say about it.” I still count back though. I took it to Corvium with me, blissfully unaware of its existence. If I’d know about it would I have rushed into that hell hole? Would I have dragged my brother to his death, along with the number of other New bloods from the Notch? I hate my weakness for putting me in this position. I hate that I had craved human contact and intimacy so much that I lost sight of what the consequences might be. I hate that I actually loved the moment and the man I had shared it with. I hate that I never told him that. I hate a lot of things, and every day I add another thing to the ever growing list.</p>
<p>          Wren is quiet for a long time while I sink into my memories. We go in circles like this often. I wonder if she’s annoyed with me yet. Maybe I can drive her insane and finally get her to leave so that I can deal with this situation in peace.</p>
<p>          “Do you have any idea how many women I’ve had to work with so that they could have a child?” She tilts her head to the side. Although her expression is soft, her words are hard. It’s the first time she’s ever been severe with me. It makes me turn my head to the side just to witness it. Her lips are drawn into a tight line, and she looks only slightly terrifying like that. Still, it’s like watching a flower try to grow thrones. “You have a little miracle, is that not enough?”</p>
<p>          “A <em>miracle</em>?” That snaps me out of my reverence for her. I laugh at the word, and it jars her. Shaking my head, I look back out at the garden with a sneer. “A <em>miracle</em> that Maven will use against me, and that he’ll eventually use against Cal. A <em>miracle</em> that he’ll twist like his mother did with him. What about that is a <em>miracle</em>Wren Skonos?”</p>
<p>          Her expression softens slightly, but she doesn’t say anything else. Turning away from me, she speaks quietly to the servant who begins to set out dinner. She’s back to her old tactics then, or at least the useful one.</p>
<p>          “We’re leaving for a tour of the country in three days.” Wren announces quietly as the sound of water and ice hitting a glass reverberates in the silence of the room. My heart pounds at the implication of her words. I can almost smell the freedom she is offering me. My hand stills on the glass, and the frost just outside bites at my skin. It’ll be freezing out there.</p>
<p><em>           Bone cold</em>, my dad would grumble. The kind of cold that sinks below your skins and embeds itself in your bones. The kind of cold that doesn’t thaw with spring.</p>
<p>          “Of course, his Majesty won’t take you if you can’t agree to behave.”</p>
<p><em>           Agree to behave. </em>Like I’m a petulant toddler they’re scolding, and not the young woman that killed their Queen and held up her head for the country to see. I barely contain my malcontent to a snort.</p>
<p>           I bring my knees up to my chest and try to wrap my arms around them. For now, I can, but soon I won’t have that option. The thought turns my insides to acid, and I can taste it on my tongue when I murmur to the glass, “And where are you all going?”</p>
<p>            “To tour some of the hardest hit cities, and then to the Choke.”</p>
<p><em>            The Choke? They’ll go to the Choke?</em> A part of me is sick at the thought. Another part is amused at the image of Maven trudging through the mud and filth. He seems so out of place there in my thoughts. That is Cal’s stomping ground after all. Maven’s is in these gleaming halls where he can pull strings and spin webs for people to trap themselves.</p>
<p>            “If you are allowed to come, you will be watched by myself and the Arven’s for the entire trip. So if you are planning another little escapade. You will not get far.” Wren adjusts a piece of silverware on the tray, straightening it out while she muses.</p>
<p>           Glancing at her, I watch as she pulls the chair back and nods down to it. The offer is clear, freedom in exchange for sitting at a table. The answer has never been so hard. With Maven gone, I might stand a chance of escaping. Or he might double my security while he’s gone. I have to lean towards the latter. Which makes my decision all the more infuriating.</p>
<p>           Climbing down from the window, I edge toward the warmth of the fire and table. Wren smiles, pleased with getting her way. The change in temperature is drastic enough that I shiver involuntarily though.</p>
<p>           Wren spots it like a hawk and orders a blanket. The servant scurries away from her to grab one from the chest near the foot of the bed.</p>
<p>          “I don’t need it.” I grumble as I sink into the chair. Wren’s fingers rest on my shoulders and immediately I feel the soothing effect of her ability spreading through my chest and down to my toes. I’d groan in relief as the aches in my lower back muscles are chased away, but I hate it as much as I’ve always hated what the healers do.</p>
<p>         Those pains are mine to live with, just as every other sporadic cramp and wave of morning sickness is. While I hate my situation, I refuse to simply have it wiped from existence. I made the decision that put me in this position, I will deal with the consequences.</p>
<p>          Her hands disappear, but a blanket comes to rest on my shoulders in exchange. I grip the front of it, only for the servant to adjust it herself. She leans close to me, her breath warm on my ear. I try to pull away in surprise at her closeness. Her to grip my shoulders keeps me in place though, and her breath against my ear paralyzes me. The words she whispers are so soft I think I imagine them. The way she squeezes my shoulders afterward confirms them though.</p>
<p>
  <em>          Rise, red as the dawn.</em>
</p>
<p>          My stomach turns and I force my face to neutrality. That doesn’t stop me from eying her shadow as she backs away though. Wren replaces her, and the fear returns. Did she hear? What has this woman risked in delivering this tiny spark of hope?</p>
<p>          While Wren mutters numbers and counts and a multitude of other things that I don’t understand, I glance down at the plate. If I hadn’t been a member of the Guard, if I didn’t know how they communicated, I would have missed it.</p>
<p>           A little slip of paper is tucked into one of the folds of the napkin, carefully concealed to look like another fold in the fabric. It’s just a shade darker than the napkin though. I unfold the napkin and let the scrap fall into my lap before carefully covering it with my hand and then transferring it to the pocket of my pants.</p>
<p>           “Would you like to know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Wren’s voice has a smile in it that I’ve never heard from her. My silence must be conformation to her, because she laughs lightly. “It’s a healthy—”</p>
<p>           Panic laces through me, and I almost throw her to the ground when I sprint from the chair to avoid her hands. I edge backwards towards my bed, keeping her in my line of sight and glancing at the servant hesitantly. She says nothing now though. She delivered her message, her only job now is to observe and send what she sees back.</p>
<p>          “No, and if you tell anyone I will strangle you with my bare hands.” I growl, lowering a hand as if I might be able to protect whatever is inside me from her prying. It’s really too late though, she already knows the information. Which means it will be in Maven’s hands in under an hour.</p>
<p>          Wren’s eyes widen from where she caught herself on the chest, and Kitten chortles to herself in the corner before laughing outright.</p>
<p>           “So many threats in one day, Miss Barrow.” She says before pushing up from her chair and grabbing my arm to drag me back to the table. I struggle against her grip, but she throws me down in the chair even though Wren protests to the treatment. “Be a good little King’s Pet and eat.”</p>
<p>            I jeer at her, but Wren fills my field of vision immediately. I don’t protest this time when she lays her hands on me to do her work. She also doesn’t speak the rest of the time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(/////)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>             In the dark of the night, I get up from bed. The floor is freezing underneath my feet, and the shadows of snow on the floor tells me that there will be a pillow of it on my windowsill tomorrow. But for now, it is simply a peaceful shadow on my walls.</p>
<p>             The fire has since smoldered to embers, and does little to light up the room, or heat it. But I feel my way to it and crouch down slowly. A quick glance over my shoulder confirms Egg is dozing. Of the two Arvens that watch me, he is the most complacent. I’m lucky he’s on duty tonight. It should have been Kitten, but she pulled a double shift a two days ago.</p>
<p>             Reaching into my pocket when I’m certain Egg hasn’t heard me, I unfold the paper. My heart pounds, and I have to force steady inhales and exhales. I almost can’t bear to look at what is on it.</p>
<p>             I’m not disappointed. It’s a single line, small enough to fit on the paper and go unnoticed if it fell into the wrong hands. But in my hands, the words mean everything. I know that penmanship. I’d seen it in notebooks filled with campaigns and battle maneuvers. I’ve seen it on faded supply lists, and in the dirt at the Notch.</p>
<p>             I have to shove a knuckle into my mouth to hide the little sob that almost escapes. Tears gather in my eyes, and I hold my hand out to let the paper flutter into the grate. A part of me wants to keep it, to hold onto the hope. The sensible part knows it has to go.</p>
<p>            The embers catch weakly, and then start to chew through the paper. First it shrivels up, curling in on itself until I can’t see where the darkening mess ends and begins. Hunched over the embers though, I watch those words burns burn away until they’re just ash.  </p>
<p>
  <em>            Until we’re dust. </em>
</p>
<p>            Words whispered against my shoulder, along with other promises that I hadn’t believed until this moment. Those three simple words mean more than any slogan or whisper of freedom. He’s here with me, even if he’s not. I drop my hand to my stomach, and I can’t stifle the smile that rises as I keep turning those words over in my mind.</p>
<p>            “He’s coming.” I whisper, and this time, it’s to someone. I get a fluttering near my side, and I don’t shy away from the feeling.</p>
<p><em>             Miracle. </em>Even though I protest, Wren is right. A miracle that I’ve gotten this far without a hiccup, that my body has managed to thrive even with the Silent Stone. I wonder if Jon saw this future, if he saw my child’s face in the many pages he turned over in his mind. He’s here in Whitefire, I know he is because in the few times I’ve been allowed out of my room, I’ve see those haunting red eyes watching me. I have half a mind to seek him out and ask him if there is any future where Cal sees his child, and I see him again.</p>
<p>            The door into my room creaks, interrupting my thoughts and wiping the smile from my face. I glance over my shoulder, panic slicing through me. It’s the closest I’ve felt to my lightning since the Silent Stone manacles were placed on me. It’s the closest I’ll probably get for the rest of my life, however short it may be.</p>
<p>            The shadow that enters the room is the last person I want to see though. Rising slowly to hide the light kick I give to the ashes so any evidence can be erased, I murmur, “Taken to walking around like an overgrown bat I see.”</p>
<p>            Maven’s smile flashes in the dark. Behind him, Egg doesn’t move from his chair, and Maven throws a look full of indignation in the direction of the guard. “I’m fond of the night these days. It’s quiet.” His hands tuck into his pockets. He’s dressed like he’s just come in from a walk. His hair is windswept across his forehead, the curls even lightly dusted with snow. But it’s nearly midnight, I would have thought he’d be at least in his robe or sleeping clothes. Not that I could picture him sleeping. The dark circles, that look almost permanent now, are evidence for my theory.</p>
<p>             Huffing I grab the blanket I left draped over the chair and toss it around my shoulders. I would rather freeze than talk to him, but its colder in the room than I anticipated. It should be warmer with him here, but apparently he’s decided to suck all the heat into himself. He’s like an ancient engine, pulling as much heat as possible into it so it can keep clanking along even though it’s on the verge of collapsing.</p>
<p>            Brushing my fingertips along the spines of the books whose titles I can’t even make out in the darkness, I try to ignore his eyes as they follow me around the room. My shelves at least provide me with a small escape from him.</p>
<p>            The leather of one of the chairs creaks as he sinks into it. I glance at Egg suspiciously, but he doesn’t even stir. I have half a mind to check his pulse, but decide I’d rather not disturb him if he’s slept through this encounter so far.</p>
<p>            “When we leave, you’ll be traveling with me.”</p>
<p>            “Wonderful. I’ll pack my nicest shackles.” I spit at him over my shoulder, but he simply smiles at my fury.</p>
<p>            “I figured we could make a little deal actually, regarding those and other things.” He lets the final syllables of his word fall off, letting me pick up what he’s talking about. It doesn’t take much to know though.</p>
<p>            “As if I would make a deal with a snake.” I jeer under my breath, hoping he doesn’t hear. It’s just my luck that he does. His chuckle sounds genuine. Sitting back in the chair and tapping the tips of his fingers together in a steady rhythm, he observes me. He’s restless, and unlike Cal who spars to release tension, Maven seeks a different arena to destroy that feeling.  </p>
<p>
  <em>             I beat you with my head dear brother. </em>
</p>
<p>A headache begins to form between my brows and I let my head slowly fall into one of my hands. I’m too tired to walk into that arena with him. At least, I tell myself that’s the reason. The truth is more haunting. I have something to lose now. Before I hadn’t. This thing inside of me had been just that, a <em>thing.</em> Now, I’m afraid it’s slowly becoming a person with a face that I change every night in my dreams even when I don’t try. Some nights it’s my brother’s, with his quick smile and bright honey eyes. Other nights, those eyes are amber and full of laughter before they darker with winter. Sometimes, it’s my father’s face, tired and worn and drawn. Some nights, it’s my face. Not as it is now, but as a young girl begging in the streets while sleet beats her down into the slush around her feet.</p>
<p>            “I’ll tell you my terms, and you can rest on them.” Maven offers, but that is a challenge in and of itself.</p>
<p>            “I’m tired.” I admit quietly, before glancing at him over my shoulder. He fills the chair, even though the shadows are swallowing him. He blends in with them so well. I sometimes forget that it where he belongs, but then I see him in moments like this and remember. He was a boy of shadows long before he was a boy sitting on a throne. This is his strength, not standing in the light before his people.</p>
<p>            Tilting his head to the side he says, “Wren tells me that you are growing attached.”</p>
<p>            My shoulders tense, and my entire being reaches for my lightning as I sense a trap about to spring. There is nothing but emptiness where I search though. The only weapons I have are my words. He brings his leg up to rest his ankle on his knee as he continues to observe me. He’s more collected than I’ve seen lately. Interesting given the turmoil and rumblings running through the court. My little video started a chain of events inside Archeon as well. He’s been cleaning up after me for months now, and the damage is far greater than either of us could have anticipated. Hence the Coronation Tour, I realize. It’s a way for him to get out into the open, to put his face before all of them and show that he is strong, that his claim and will are strong. If only they could see how he flakes like fading paper.</p>
<p>             When I don’t say anything else, he waves a hand dismissively. “I knew you would. You’re not as cold as you think Mare. Even my mother loved me.”</p>
<p>            “Elara loved what you could be, what she could make you into.”</p>
<p>            “And you are so different are you?” Bile fills my mouth at thought of being compared to that heinous witch, but he doesn’t give me a chance to defend myself. His lips curl into a smile that splits the darkness. “My mother saw a future in me just as much as you see a future in your child.”</p>
<p>            “What future? You’ll steal it before it knows what that future could be.” I spit, only to realize my mistake and spin away hissing in displeasure. <em>Stupid, stupid, you gave him something to use against you.</em></p>
<p>The leather of the chair creaks again as he pushes both feet to the floor and leans forward like an eager spectator. Maven has me right where he wants me, and I have no escape. “That is precisely what I’m here to discuss with you tonight.” He shows me the palms of his hands on his knees as if in admission. “The future.”  </p>
<p>            My skin prickles and I fiddle with one of the manacles. They get lighter every day, even after Wren removes them and then puts them back. I hate that I am getting used to them, just like I am getting used to the little movements inside of me and what they mean.</p>
<p>            “Get out.” I say to him before going for the bathroom. I’m going to draw a bath and sit in it until dawn. His steps are near silent and before I know it, he’s standing in the doorway to my sanctuary, baring my path. He’s like a parasite, invading every last safe space I have.</p>
<p>             His hand is warm as it brushes my cheek. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, and he tilts his head in requisition. “Hear my terms at least. Every good player knows to at least hear the rules before walking away from a game.”</p>
<p>             “This isn’t a game.” <em>And my child is not a piece for you </em>I almost say, but I swallow that bit like a bitter pill. My baby is a piece, as much as I am. Maven could wield us both with deadly accuracy if he wanted, but he hasn’t. Not yet at least. I’m terrified of what he could do. He could crush Cal into dust if he wanted, or destroy everything I have tried to build. He could destroy the Scarlet Guard by simply lying about what this baby is. My credibility would die and any fire I stoked, and sparks I created would be swallowed by that dark lie.</p>
<p>              His expressions softens into an understanding frown before he murmurs, “of course not. It was a simple analogy. Hear my terms.”</p>
<p>              I try to turn away from him and head for my bed. I’ll bury myself under the sheets until he leaves. He’ll probably just bring one of the chairs up to the edge of my bed and sit there like he used to in my early days here. But he’ll hopefully sit in silence. I don’t want to think about deals, or what might happen if I accept one. I don’t want think about slipping up. I’ve done enough of that in the past few months. I’ve turned away everyone who cared about me, and burned bridges I didn’t know I needed until they were gone.</p>
<p>             “The manacles come off if you agree to stay here of your own free will.”</p>
<p>             My heart stops in my chest, and I slowly look over my shoulder at him, suspicion drawing my brows together. He holds his hands up defensively before stepping closer. His breath is warm, even though the last vestiges of the cold night are wafting off of his coat.</p>
<p>              “And I’ll sweeten the pot just for you.” His smile seems genuine, but even snakes can appear docile. Wolves can bound around like puppies until they lunge for your throat. He’d taught me that, and I am not going to let him teach that lesson again. His touch on my arm is gentle, and his other hand reaches out for me, seeking my midsection. He changes direction quickly though, as if being near my child burns him. “If you do decide to stay, you can see your child as much as you want. It will have its place in this court, and so will you.”</p>
<p>              My heart begins to beat again, this time rapidly. I spin the words every way that I can searching for a loophole he could use. There isn’t one though. The terms are simple. I stay and I get to keep my baby, in some capacity. I might even have some tenuous sway over its upbringing. Before, I only knew that Maven would take it from me, and possibly do away with it. The added bonus is that I get to lose these horrible manacles. I pause on that thought. Yes, the manacles go, but my baby will become my new chains. If I leave, it’s life will be forfeit. I won’t be able to take it with me if I run, I know that above all else. I’m simply trading up for a bigger cage. That is where the knowledge Wren imparts on him comes in. I’m attached, or growing attached. I won’t leave my baby behind anymore, and he knows it.</p>
<p>             “Of course, the manacles have to stay on until the baby is born. I can’t have you running off before that.” He amends, seeing the way I am thinking through the whole thing. My heart sinks a little at the new addition. I really had hoped for too much.</p>
<p>             “I’m tired.” I say again before turning back to my bed. The sheets and covers are probably freezing by now. But the baby has finally settled inside of me, I need to get to sleep before it starts moving again and keeps me awake all night.</p>
<p>             Maven is quiet for a long time while I pull the blankets back, but he doesn’t leave. I didn’t expect him too, but I had hoped at least for that. Whatever he is waiting for me to say, I won’t. I have nothing to say to him that I haven’t already.</p>
<p>              “Think it over.” He finally murmurs before turning on his heel. Before he gets to the door, I squeeze the blankets in my fist and spin to face his back. I’m not one for negotiations, but there is only one way I can see out of this. Even if it is a long shot, he appears to be feeling  gracious tonight.</p>
<p>             “The baby goes to my family and I stay.” I offer instead. He also pauses with his hand on the doorhandle, his head tilting to the side. He takes his time thinking it over, and every second he takes feels heavier than the previous. In the shadow of the fire embers, he is still impossibly beautiful. When he turns around though, it’s to give me a remorseful smile.</p>
<p>             “I’m afraid there are no counter offers in this deal. It must be taken as it is, or denied.” He shrugs and slides out of the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as the lock engages, Egg snorts and practically jumps out of his chair. His eyes fly around the room until they find me slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed.</p>
<p>           He blinks sleep out of his eyes, but flushes when I glare at him and hiss, “now you wake up?” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Not me rewriting the bathtub scene to suit my own needs with this story... y'all have given me too much confidence......<br/>As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. You guys have been so sweet and awesome for the past few. (((((((:</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part 3</strong>
</p><p>            Early spring used to be one of my favorite times of year. In the Stilts it would be just starting to get warm, without being stifling, and the snow and ice would have finally relinquished their hold on the world. Everything would slowly be turning green again, and rainstorms would be washing away the muck of another starved winter.</p><p>            Now, every new bud that appears and every new bird that flies by, reminds me that time is slipping away. That my baby is starting to live on borrowed time.</p><p>            He—because there is no way in heaven or hell that girl would kick me this hard or annoy me this much—is growing by leaps and bounds. I can tell when he dreams and when he’s awake now, when he’s restless and when he’s probably as bored as I am. I can feel every little stretch and shift, every fluttering movement. During the tour, I had worried he would come when I was riding in one of the unmarked, darkly tinted transports while Maven watched me with his burning eyes. He didn’t come though, which I suppose is lucky. It gave me a little more time to think up a plan. Not that I got any closer to one. I had half a mind at one point to open the door of the transport while we rode across the Choke and throw myself into a trench before running. Of course, that wouldn’t have worked since I was boxed in by the Arvens and Maven sat across from me, watching my every move like a hawk would a mouse.</p><p>            He’s gotten colder of the past few months, if that were even possible. His moods change on a dime, terrifying half the court. Yet every night like clockwork, he knocked on my door to offer his deal, and every time a little more of my restraint chipped away. On the last night before we drove over the Choke, I almost said yes. I almost took his hand and accepted my fate.</p><p>            Back in Archeon now, I am seriously in danger of taking the offer. Preparations for a wedding to drown the truth that Scarlet Guard has more of a foothold than Maven would like have begun. While those preparations are wonderful for giving me a smidge more freedom, they also mean that Maven is stabilizing his empire. The better he is at that, the worse my family’s lives will be.</p><p>            Another worrisome thought chases through my head. Maven has less time for me, as he seems to be spending as much time as possible figuring out his mysterious new bride to be, and I can’t decide if that is for the better or the worse. I hate that I miss our conversations. At least with him, I could hurl obstinacies and not regret them a moment later like I do with Wren. He takes them in stride after all, like the perfect little masochist his is. Some barbs have cut deep though. The last thing I’d said to him on the road was that my baby was born out of love, and I was glad that was the case. I’d meant it as both a reassurance for myself, and a blade against him. It had cut deep, deeper than I think I intended. He’d left the room with a flurry of his coat, his face made of stone. I hadn’t seen him since.</p><p>            Sighing as I step down from the transport, I squint up at the towers of Archeon, and scrunch my nose. The air is heavy with the smell of blossoms and fresh cut grass, it should be wonderful, but all I can think about is my little room that I will so be pushed into again.</p><p>Egg and Trio, a new addition to my guard, practically pull me to the ground when I take my time. I rip my arms out of their grips and glaring them down say, “Wren told me to take my time.”</p><p>            Irritated, Egg rolls his eyes, tired of me using Wren’s orders when I want to and not when I need to. Trio hasn’t spent enough time around me to really be annoyed yet, but he still scowls. I start ahead of them in the meantime, trying to set a pace that doesn’t leave me breathless. It’s embarrassing how little now drives me to exhaustion. At least I haven’t had another scare like I did when all of this first started. My heart had been strong for all these months, and according to Wren, my baby’s heart beats stronger than mine. Small blessings, I remind myself. Then again, I’m certain my son could be missing toes, or his ears, or his eyes and I would love him all the same. I haven’t even seen him yet, but a part of my heart is already carved open to make space for him. I have no doubt he’ll fill it and spill over into other parts too, parts of me that are cracked and cold. He will take my brother’s name, and my biggest hope is that a part of my brother will stay alive within his nephew</p><p>            As I start up the steps and into the palace, I fidget with my coat, trying to close it to preserve some of my warmth when a breeze chases me through the doorway. It stopped being able to button at all halfway through the trip though, and has to hang open. There is no hiding the truth now, or during the tour for that matter. In fact, during the tour I had been carefully placed for interviews and Maven’s speeches so that people might get a hint but never a true look at the truth. My outfits were selected to hide most if not all of my pregnancy too. But people who were perceptive noticed, and the whispers began. There were quiet, humming whispers were that it was Cal’s, which played well with the whole seductive Red witch theory Elara had promoted. The louder whispers were that it was Maven’s, and I’m sure he stoked that whisper into the wildfire it became. Still others whispered that it didn’t matter which Calore brother fathered it. The child was a bastard and a monstrosity regardless.</p><p>           Has Cal gotten wind of the rumor about Maven where he is with the Guard? Is he even with the Guard? If he is and he has heard that rumor… does he believe it? I hope not, I hope some part of him knows the truth. The part that sent me that note and held me against his chest until all I could feel, hear and sense was his heartbeat, has to know.</p><p>             I don’t normally let my mind wander to him so freely. But it’s gotten harder lately. Especially when I start pondering if my son will have Cal’s eyes, or his coloring. Will he have my blood? Or his father’s? So many questions, and even fewer answers. Julian would have dragged himself over hot coals to get blood samples, and run tests. He would have been enthralled with me and this baby, and with the possibilities that he may be the first of his kind.</p><p>            My heart aches at the thought of my old teacher. I wonder if he adjusting away from his massive library, and if he has been able to spend time with Cal. The success of the assault on Corvium, and the fact that I heard Cal’s name attached to every mention of it tells me that hasn’t occurred. He probably buried himself in plans and work. I brush my hand along the symbol of the crown on my jacket, wondering if Cal would have been the kind of father to bury himself in work ad ignore his children. No, I reason immediately, Cal would be the father to drop everything for his children. I have feeling if he knew or had an inkling that I was pregnant with his child, he would already have tried to storm Archeon by himself. Or maybe he has tried, and I just don’t know.</p><p>            A smile curls the corner of my lips as I think about it.</p><p>            “Happy to be home?” A quiet voice asks me. My hand immediately flies to my stomach, as I flip around to face the last person I expect. I hadn’t seen much of her during our travel back to the capitol, but those weeks do not diminish the fact that The Princess of the Lakelands is beautiful. She’s built like a warrior with glossy black hair pulled back into a thick braid down her back. She is not as imposing as Evangeline, but that may be because she comes across as so blasé, and self-assured. Neither of those things make her any less of a threat.</p><p>            I dare a glance behind me for Egg and Trio, who have edged closer to me, their expressions pulled into frowns as they look this princess over as well. Even though there is now a peace treaty between the Lakelands and Norta, the tension in the room is still high. Will I live to see that tension dissolve? Will my child?  </p><p>            “Princess.” I murmur as I dip into the best half bow-half curtsy I can muster at the moment with my legs cramping from sitting for too long. When I rise again, my lower back twinges painfully. Forcing a smile to hide my grimace as Is massage the spot, I tilt my head to observe her further. She’s elegant, but those pants do little to hide the muscle in her legs. Like Evangeline, she flaunts her strength. She’s dressed so simple with a jacket that falls to her knees, a clean cut pair of pants and a pair of polished black boots, I could have mistaken her for just a common Silver who wandered into the palace. But the illusion would not have held for long. Even among the Nortan soldiers and her own, she seems larger than them, larger than this palace and the walls that seek to confine me. She is dangerous, plain and simple.</p><p>Iris’s eyes glint as she looks over me as well. What does she see when she looks at me? I’m certainly not imposing as her when I have to cross my arms over my stomach in an awkward position. Or when I have to shift from foot to foot because my ankles are killing me and my feet have gon numb.</p><p>            “Walk with me?” she asks, and offers me her arm. The proposal seems as barbed as one of Maven’s, and she coats it with honey as well. I’m not sure what’s more terrifying: the fact that Maven may have met his match, or the fact that they are about to be married. Still, with her guards standing along the walls all around us, it makes me think that refusing her might insight a small war in this hallway. It doesn’t leave me with much of a choice.</p><p>            I slide my arm into the crook of hers, and I’m shocked to feel the warmth that radiates off her skin. She gives me a secret smile as we begin walking, and mercifully she sets a pace that I can talk and walk at without being out of breath. All the while I can feel her eyes roaming over me, taking in the open jacket and everything that goes with it.</p><p>            “I didn’t realize I would be coming into such quick competition.” She sighs as we round a corner, her eyes glued to the painted ceiling.</p><p>            My brows furrow in response and I glance behind me as her guards slowly forming a semi-circle around us. Egg and Trio squirm their way between us and the line, but soon they get swallowed by it. The panic in their eyes makes me smirk, even though my joy is fruitless. It’s not like I could run right now. Attached to the Princess of the Lakelands as I am, I would have better odds walking across the Choke blindfolded without getting shot than trying to escape right now. </p><p>            “Pardon?” I eventually ask when I realize I’ve taken too long to speak. I’ve learned a thing or two during my time here about special pauses. This one, was not one of those. Any hint of weakness is a drop of blood in the water, and Iris is a shark if my instincts are right.</p><p>            “I thought I would at least be married a year before I had to deal with bastards.” Iris nods infinitesimally downward, and I suppress the urge to yank my jacket closed. So she believes Maven’s little rumor. He’s as good at spinning lies as his mother. Or she is goading me. I don’t know enough about her to determine that.</p><p>            I’m tired though, and my mind is foggy from napping the past few hours. Before I can stop the words from bubbling up, I glare at her and say, “it’s not his.”</p><p>            “Oh?” She asks, her brow raising just a hint. I realize the mistake too late to correct it, and she pounces like a cat on it. “How strange that he would let such an un-stabilizing thing like a rival’s heir take shape when his reign is so tenuous.”</p><p>            “My baby is not an heir of anything.” I grumble, pursing my lips and looking away. Any hope I may have had of directing or control the conversation drifts away. I can only react to her moves now. She is so unsettling though, that I fear every word I say gives away more than I intend.</p><p>            She pauses our walk, and slides in front of me with the grace of a bird dropping to skim the water’s surface. She must have Swift blood somewhere in her family, because not even Soyna is that level with her movements. Behind me, I feel Egg’s presence, as his gloved hand closes over my arm as if he will pull me back and away from this mysterious new comer.</p><p>            Her dark eyes search mine, and dig deeper than I want. Turning my gaze to a pillar near us, I try to count the swirls in the marble. Iris will not be dissuaded though, she steps back into my field of vision and tsks her tongue softly. “Surely you recognize the power you have?”</p><p>            Her lips curl into a smile at my continued silence. She has my attention though, and I am enraptured by every word she will speak.</p><p>            With a delicate hand she reaches out to adjust my coat, and fingers the silver buttons with the curiosity of a curator. “Blood lines are such interesting things. Claims and stakes in thrones even more so. The laws of Norta are clear, one un-broken, direct line.” Her eyes search mine, as if assuring that I am following along. “If what you say is true, while Tiberias has been lost, his child is the direct line.”</p><p>            “Maven is his father’s son.”</p><p>            “And yet, his popularity fades, and people are whispering a different name in the streets.” She leans forward to whisper the last part in my ear. I tense against her proximity, uncomfortable with her ability to slide under my defenses. When did she get so close?</p><p>Pulling away a fraction, her lips are curl into a coy smile. “I would very much like to know why my betrothed has allowed this to stand, given the reality he is facing.”</p><p>            With that, she spins back to my side and forces my arm back into the crook of hers as if the conversation never happened. Did it? It seemed so strange and hushed.</p><p>When I look her over this time, it’s with recognition. Maven has met his match, and she wears a pretty coat and a gentle face. Iris is a knife in the dark. He will not see her coming, not until she embeds in his back.  </p><p>           </p><p>            (/////)</p><p> </p><p>            When Evangeline enters my room, I’m unsuccessfully trying to stretch and do lunges. I know it’s her from the click of her shoes but I don’t turn around to face her. Still, the silence around us is brittle and threatens to shatter at any moment. The only sound is my labored breathing while she observes me.</p><p>            “You’ve certainly put my friend through hell these few months.” Evangeline sighs as she breaks the silence. Along the polished wood wall something glints as she moves into direct sunlight. No doubt she’s wearing some metal monstrosity.</p><p>I shrug, and continue my lunges with a bead of sweat rolling down from my hairline and along the track of my spine. My hair sticks to my forehead, and I reach up with a shaky hand to push it out of my eyes. I’m so tired and disturbingly weak. If I want to run, I’ll need all the strength I can get.</p><p>            “The good news is that every baby she delivers after yours will be easy. Including our soon-to-be Queen’s.”</p><p>            I grind my teeth together and focus on the burn in my legs. She’s bored, and she wants a pin cushion to poke. When I don’t respond, she will leave.</p><p>            She sighs again, a long suffering sound that grates on my nerves so much that I pause my workout to grab the towel I threw on the bed and wipe at my face. Her shoes click, and in the corner of my eye, I spot her at the window with her hand under her chin and her finger tapping at her lips in contemplation. She doesn’t turn when she muses, “I wonder what Maven will do when this baby comes out looking like a traitor. After all, he’s claimed alternative theories, but those gorgeous amber eyes always pop up in the Calore line—”</p><p>            “Is there something I can do for you Evangeline?” I growl successfully cutting her off while tossing the towel back down and picking up the glass of water I left on my night table. She spins on her heel to face me, as if shocked that I’m speaking, or even sharing this space with her.</p><p>            “And she speaks.” Evangeline’s smile could have been carved out of marble, or maybe made by a knife. Her lipstick is so red it could be blood, mine specifically. She would not dare to touch me though, Maven made sure she understood that very clearly the first time she saw me here. With the loss of her position as his betrothed, perhaps she is willing to test the boundries he set.</p><p>            “Yes, shockingly.” I grumble as I set the glass down and sink down onto my sheets to rest. My legs are wobbly, and I don’t want to collapse with her near me. Strength and power are two things I recognize very clearly these days. Like a chameleon I try to blend in, to hide the truth.</p><p>Evangeline edges toward me, her eyes scanning me and landing on my stomach. At her side, her fingers twitch and her coat ripples with the movement. She’s dressed surprisingly simple. I’m sure there are hundreds of different metals on her person, even if I can’t see them. Maybe Iris is rubbing off on her.</p><p>            When she stands over me, I scowl and wave my hand. “Well?”</p><p>            “Come with me.” She says, jarring me with her intensity. When I open my mouth to argue, she grab my arm and yanks me to my feet. My protests fall on deaf ears as she drags me barefoot and sweaty out of my room. The halls wind ahead of us, and I struggle to get a sense of our direction and course. Evangeline’s pace is relentless, and I reach out to pry her hand off my arm because I’m getting a stich in my side and my baby is protesting to each sharp inhale with a kick to my hip.</p><p>            Eventually, she slows, and I let out a sigh of relief when she drops my hand in front of a set of ornate white doors. My heart leaps into my throat at the sight of them. With their swirling wood and inlaid precious stones, these doors can only belong to a king. There is only one here who would speak with me and I haven’t seen him weeks, maybe even months. Has it really been months since I’ve seen him?</p><p>            She throws the doors open, and the Sentinels on the other side turn to face us with blank eyes. She strolls in, confident in her position., completely unaware that I’m still rooted to my spot in the hall. I have no such assurance and hang in the doorway, a hand under my stomach to support it. My back is aching, and my legs are practically jelly. From the walk, I tell myself. It’s not the fact that I am on the precipice, about to face the monster that ripped me to shreds. In a strange way though, with this punishment he has forced on me, he gave me a gift and is not so monstrous. I am not alone here because of him. And yet, I am. There is no one for me lean on, no one for me to simply bury myself in to hide from the world. Not that acting like that has been any good for me. I’m not alone here because I had felt similarly months ago. I wouldn’t be opposed to pressing my back against Cal and letting him drown out the world for a few hours right now.</p><p>            The Sentinels try to stop Evangeline, but she has her way and I am pushed into the doors beyond the receiving room. Beyond those doors, is the truth laid bare. Maven’s rooms are a hollowed out heart. The sinew and muscle are there, but any resemblance of humanity is gone, carved out by a Whisper’s knife. Standing in this space, I recognize how young Maven is. A boy pushed into a man by Elara. Any portraits or personal touches have long been removed, and there is a strange sterility to the space. Cal’s rooms had been hazard, with books and papers piled everywhere, and his armor leaned up against almost every wall. I’d never seen Maven’s rooms while he was prince. I wonder if I would have recognized him as the broken creature if I had. I want to believe I might have at least been suspicious.</p><p>            The Sentinel clears his throat, and I glance at him from my position in the center of the room. The sunlight from the window licks at my back, warm and inviting. I could have simply lain down on the plush carpet and fallen asleep if the Sentinel had not gestured with a hand for the door to another room. This one is simple rich dark wood. What lies beyond it, I can only guess at. Is it his study? No, I’ve been there already and it’s in those rooms behind the throne room.</p><p>            With a pounding heart that is struggling to free itself from my ribcage, I edge toward that door, and push it open wider. Boiling steam washes over me, chasing away the comfort of the balmy sunlight. As I edge into that space and slowly close the door behind me, I am hit by a wave of déjà vu. Months ago, I stood in a bathroom like this with a horrible realization, and felt like I was floating. Now, in this pale white marble bathroom with the choking steam, I feel like I could vanish into the fog and simply float away. No more Mare Barrow, no more New Bloods, no more baby whose future I panic over. Just existence, and blissful ignorance.</p><p>            “My Sentinels are cowards.” Maven’s voice rings through the space, shattering the effect. When I focus through the haze, I spot him in the center of the room with his head resting back on the edge of a marble tub while he slowly swirls his fingers in the milky white bath water.</p><p>            I tense at his state, and look away, but I cannot escape his gaze. It finds me as it always does and burns. His voice is soft when he speaks again, and it sends a shiver of fear down my spine. Monsters are dangerous when they whisper.</p><p>“It’s true what they say then… women glow when they’re pregnant.”</p><p>            “This is sweat,” I grumble, and push my hair off my neck., self-conscious about my appearance. Evangeline should have given me a chance to change, maybe even shower before dragging me across Whitefire and forcing me in here.</p><p>This room is stifling, with the swirling steam and boiling water. He’s in the center of it, pale as a ghost. Against the white marble bathroom, all I can see are those livid, burning blue eyes.</p><p>            “Never the less,” he sighs as he pushes his gaze back to the ceiling and closes his eyes. “You have looked lovely every second of your pregnancy.”</p><p>            Something in my quivers at those words. I push it down though, lock it up in box so I can bury it and then throw the key over the edge. I don’t want his compliments, or his reassurance. It’s a two edged sword. “I thought you were a good liar. If Cal told me that I’d believe him, but not you.” I whisper, but I may as well have shouted. He flinches, and turns his eyes back to me. Hollow, he’s so <em>hollow</em>. Meeting his gaze is like looking into a never ending pool.</p><p>            “What do you want Mare?”</p><p>            A loaded question with far too many answers. <em>My family, my friends, freedom, forgiveness, my back to stop hurting, my child safe and far from this wretched place. </em>At the bottom of the list is a name, one I fear mentioning again right now. “I don’t <em>want </em>anything. Evangeline sent me in here.”</p><p>            He barks out a laugh, and the sound grates on the walls. Dropping his hand to let it dangle over the side of the tub, he rests his chin on the porcelain to observe me. His eyes rake over me, but always gravitate back to my middle. I spin away from him to face the only window in the room in response.</p><p>Outside the magnolia trees shift slowly in the breeze, and I finally get a view of the wedding preparations. An army of chairs have been set out in the middle of Caesar Square, and people fluttering around them and between them like ants. He is expecting an audience at this ceremony. I would be stupid not to try and escape during the massive party set to follow.</p><p>            My hand falls to my stomach and I rub a slow circle as another thought crosses my mind. Cal would be stupid not to try something. The message from his note is still burned into my eyelids, no matter how hard I try to erase it. Samson hasn’t been allowed inside my head in months, but I still fear him sifting through my thoughts and finding it. I won’t be the reason another servant is killed. My traitorous heart won’t be stopped though. During the tour I had searched every doorway we passed, every alleyway for amber eyes cutting through the darkness. I had seen no sign of him though.</p><p>            “Typical,” Maven sighs and the bathwater sloshes as he shifts in it. “She thinks she can convince me.”</p><p>            “Of what?”</p><p>            “Marry Iris, don’t marry Iris. She obviously did not send you in here for tea and cakes.”</p><p>            I glance over my shoulder with a raised brow, there is no emotion on his face though, just cool neutrality. He has frozen himself to all emotion. Even his anger seems strangely iced over where I am concerned. His offer rings through my head once again. I might be able to convince him of an alternative while he is in this unguarded state.</p><p>            “The wedding is tomorrow.” He states, and any hope I had of countering his offer curls into a smoke and vanishes among the other tendrils in the room.</p><p>            “Oh.”</p><p>            “You didn’t know.” He tilts his head to the side, his lips pulling into a deep frown. It crinkles the skin between his brows. It’s the most I’ve seen his face move in months. Maybe he’s not unguarded, maybe he’s teetering on the edge. A few well-chosen phrases from me could push him completely. I can’t seem to pull the words from my muddled thoughts though.</p><p>            When I don’t reply, he shrugs, shifting the water again and sliding that mask of emotionless boredom into place. “A part of me hoped you might start breaking things over me…” he pauses, his eyes flashing with an emotion I don’t recognize. “It felt good to wonder.”</p><p>            “You are the last person I would break anything over.” I growl, and his eyes dart to me and fix on my sneer. Pacing closer to him, I clench my hand into a fist to keep from curling my fingers around his throat. “I have far more pressing things to worry about.”</p><p>            “Such as your quickly collapsing window of escape?” He offers, his brows drawing together.</p><p>            “No.” I spit the word like poison, but to him it is ice. His body tenses and he stops shifting in the water. Stillness and kinetic silence fall over us as I brace my hands on the other end of the beautiful tub and glare him down. “My only concern is whether or not I will kill you if you lay a hand on my son, your <em>brother’s</em> son.”</p><p>            My words strike clear and true, like a bell or a bomb. The air around us crackles with heat, and the water quickly begins to steam again. His knuckles pale as he grips the edge of the bathtub, but his face remains the same mask of indifference. There is a storm under the surface though, and I am prepared to turn it into a cataclysm that will wipe this city off the face of the earth.</p><p>            “Who says I plan to harm it?” Maven growls, his eyes pools of fire. I smile wickedly, a look that actually makes him pull back in surprise.</p><p>            “You would be a fool not to. When Cal learns the truth, and he will,” Maven flinches at the name and my tone, his face flushing pale, but it doesn’t stop me. “He will come for us and you will remember why you could never face him on your own.”</p><p>            Maven’s chest rises and falls, all resemblance of composure fractured. He surges forward, his hands closing around my wrists. I hiss and try to pull away but he holds fast, and yanks me down until my forehead almost cracks against his. Our breath mixes, but his pants are icy cold, and his skin is no different. I struggle against him, but his grip is stronger than I ever imagined.</p><p>            “You think I don’t know how to break him? How to make him <em>kneel</em>?” His voice is frost withering a garden, and I continue to pull away fruitlessly, terrified of the monster I poked awake. His lips curl into a smile, as he reaches a hand up to cup my cheek and then my neck. The touch is gentle, a caress against my skin. A trickle of the bathwater runs down my cheek and drips off my chin with a plop.</p><p>            He hasn’t been able to touch me since he learned I was pregnant, since that day in my bathroom when the truth spilled between us like blood. I thought it was because he was angry with me. Now I see the truth. He is scared, terrified of this baby and what it means.</p><p>             For a moment, I fear he will smash my head down and crack it against the edge of the tub. Instead, he fingers my hair, and forces his breathing to slow. I pant now, adrenaline pumping though my veins.</p><p>            His eyes search mine before he forces my head to the side so he can breathe against my ear. “If he comes, he will find nothing but my charge, the future of <em>my </em>empire.” His lips brush against the shell of my ear, curling into another smile. “He took you from me, and you took him from me. I’ll take your child from you both. What would you do to save it if I held a knife over its chest? How high would he try to jump if I said it could save your baby when I put in Samson’s arms?”</p><p>            “Bastard.” I hiss, and he releases me to stumble backwards. This has always been just been one long twisted game played between two brothers. I am the middle pieces, stuck between them, and now my baby is too. Maven wants what slips through his fingers, and he reaches with desperate hands, trying to grasp it with all he has. I’ve fallen into Cal’s hands though, and there is nothing Maven could do about it. That is what infuriates him. This baby is proof that perhaps, in some strange way, I have already chosen his brother.</p><p>             He settles back into the water, his eyes cold. Like a marble statue he watches as I slow my breathing, his own chest barely rising and falling. He could vanish into the smoke like a premonition, a part of me hopes he will.</p><p>            “My offer still stands. If that is the only way left to keep you with me, so be it.”</p><p>            I focus on the sound of the water settling, rather than his voice. But that offer is now the only thing I have to hold onto. I hadn’t received anymore messages, no hints from a servant that the Guard was here with me. I am alone, the last line of defense for the helpless child I am about to bring into this world bursting with blood and violence. I have no anchor. I am simply a boat set adrift in a storm, clinging to the waves and trying to remain afloat with no harbor in sight.</p><p>            “My baby goes to my family.” I say one last time, hoping against all odds that he will let me have my way if he sees how desperate I am. It burns to let that ache into my voice, but it is all I have left.</p><p>            “It stays with us.” He counters, his eyes winking in the light. A bar of it cuts across his face, turning him in a painting before my eyes. He could have been so lovely, a beautiful prince with a kind heart to match the beautiful exterior. Oh he would have been wonderful, if only he hadn’t been Elara’s.   </p><p>            “I’ll stay until the day I die, manacles or no manacles. I’ll do anything and everything you ask, I’ll be the perfect little mouthpiece, anything… if you let a servant take him to my family.” I don’t kneel as I beg. I’ve done that far too many times for him. Whether I am on my feet or on my feet makes no difference where he is concerned.</p><p>            He contemplates my offer, his eyes darkening as he tilts his head to the side. His mussed, wet curls move with him. He really is just a boy, a broken hollowed out husk, but a boy all the same. Elara ruined him.</p><p>            “Even if I grant you this, you cannot give me what I want.” He murmurs, and his lips draw into a tight line. “The baby stays, and so do you, but I will let you raise it as you see fit. This is my final offer.”</p><p>            Julian tried to teach me how to see beyond words to the intentions. Maven has no intentions though. He wants me, and he will do everything in his power to keep what little he has of me left. Cal took most of me, and now, his child took my heart. I can never belong to Maven the way he wants so long as this baby lives. But if I’m here, and the baby is too, then Cal gets neither of us. It’s the only victory he sees.</p><p>            “You won’t take him from me?”</p><p>            His brows draw together, and I think he might disagree and retract his deal. His fingers grip the edges of the tub, but he nods.</p><p>            “if it’s a boy, you may keep it. If it’s a girl,” he shrugs, “I have no need for a girl.”</p><p>            The implication is clear. My heart pounds. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, but I’m certain of my instinct. I reach a shaking hand out, and my pulse pounds in my ears. “Deal.”</p><p>            His face lights up with surprise, but he still takes my hand loosely, like I may electrocute him in his bath water. I grip his fingers tightly though, and hiss, “we are in agreement then. You will never touch or harm my son.”</p><p>            He nods, his eyes narrowing. “I will not harm your son.”</p><p>            I withdraw my hand, and shake off the eerie cold that comes with his grip. Somehow lighter even with the new chains that I have wrapped around myself. There’s nothing else to say though, so I gather myself and leave. His eyes follow me the whole time, and I can almost feel the words he wants to say, the questions he needs answered. I won’t give him the answer he wants though.</p><p>The water sloshes again, and he clears his throat before I can open the door. When I glance over my shoulder, his eyes stare through me to the door and perhaps the world beyond it. “You’ll be one of Iris’s ladies tomorrow. Enjoy yourself.”</p><p>            I blanch at the information, and wish I could punch his teeth out for that. I never had a chance to escape, but the fact that a door was shut before I could try it still burns. The game was rigged from the beginning. I had to take his deal, because there were truly no other options.</p><p>            I can do nothing but nod in understanding as I open the door. The crushing weight of my new reality washes over me, leaving me numb. I have saved my child’s life, and destroyed my own, by extension any hope I have for my own future. But I will build a little cocoon for us, a small hideaway where he will only know the walls of my prison. He’ll be safe within them though, until the Guard or Cal comes to knock the crown off Maven’s head. I will wait as long as it takes for that to happen. I’ve waited long enough anyway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Part 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos!!! You guys have been such awesome readers (((: </p>
<p>I'm sorry this one is a little shorter than the previous chapters. I'm getting worried that I'm getting a little lazy with my writing so rather than prattle on, I tried to keep it short and sweet. I'm hoping that I can have the next chapter up soon. We're almost to the end, there is two more parts after this. And since I got so many questions in my ask box on tumblr about it, I decided to write the "prequel" of sorts to this fic, and a little part from Cal's POV. Maybe an epilogue too. ((: We'll see. Stay tuned for that. </p>
<p>Happy Reading ((:</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part 4</strong>
</p>
<p>              The day of the wedding is lovelier than expected. The day before had been humid, with thunder clouds building into a threatening menace on the horizon. I’d sat in front of my window and watched them, trying to recognize the patterns I had sensed in storms I had created. My lightning is still far from my gasp, even if I can detect odd little flickers of it every so often. </p>
<p>              Those clouds had dispersed overnight though. Wiped away in a matter of hours, when I was so certain they would explode and unleash a downpour that would have washed the wedding preparations away. I’d hoped it would, and the whole thing would be put off for a few more days, if only to keep me here in Archeon longer. Wren had informed me in her quiet, mouse-like manner, that we would remain with Maven and Iris after the wedding while they continued south to the Delphie region. I had been denied further details, but my stomach had still twisted painfully. I had told no one about the tentative cramps that bordered on contractions I had been experiencing. They’re not real, but I’ve felt them for days which means it won’t be long now.</p>
<p>            Going down to Delphie could be an unprecedented opportunity though. Maven is bringing half a regiment with him, and Iris is only bringing half of hers in a foolish showing of unity. They’ll be so busy pacifying the masses and each other, that I may just have a chance to slip away. Still, I’d hoped to give birth here in Archeon. I knew the passages here and could easily hide in them if I needed to avoid Wren or Maven. I won’t know the layout of Delphie, and that terrifies me. I am a creature of habit after all. </p>
<p>            Without the storm to break the heat, the day is near stifling. Not even a breeze dares to disturb the trees outside. It makes it tortuous to sit in Iris’s parlor while she is slowly dressed and prepared. Sitting on a chase lounge off to the side so that I don’t get in the way, I can observe her closely without being noticed. She looks rather like a turkey they are prepping for a meal. Iris does not strike me as the type be swallowed by these vultures though.</p>
<p>            She looks heavenly though, and as the final touches are put on her dress and hair, I can’t help thinking she makes a radiant bride. Evangeline certainly tries to put up a fight in that area, but her dress is still oddly muted given her personality. I would have thought she would clash with Iris’s elegant look on purpose or garishly wear pristine white in a direct challenge. Instead, her off-grey dress shines in the light and drips off of her like liquid metal. Every so often I feel her eyes on me but I don’t drop mine when she looks up to meet my gaze. She seems disturbingly resigned. Perhaps she is just as weary as I am. It has been a long winter, and an even longer spring so far. I can't imagine she is willing to bear her teeth and go a few rounds with Iris after how hard she has been fighting Maven. </p>
<p>            I am even more startled when she easily bows to Iris’s whims though, especially when the young Nymph makes her put the final adjustments on her dress. A spark of indignation flies through Evangeline’s eyes and I lean forward, craving a fight to break the tension in the room. If she doesn’t throw a fit, I will, and something may get thrown.</p>
<p>            Sadly, Evangeline dips her head and crouches down to pull the skirts to their full length. Her jaw still ticks slowly as she clenches and unclenches her teeth. I want to nudge her, push her to act. It might amuse me. She finishes without a whisper though, and bows delicately at the waist to Iris’s reflection in the mirror.</p>
<p>            Leaning back with a huff, I glance over my shoulder and out the window at the square. People are already milling around, probably pecking at each other for the best seats. It’s all a farce, a front to show who has power and who doesn’t. No one really trusts this wedding. I've heard the whispers in the halls from the nobles while I was on my walks. They especially don’t trust Iris. They’re right to of course. She’s been demure and polite during her time here, never stepping over the line or demanding too much, but I see it in her eyes as she scans the hallways and gazes out the windows at the city. Opportunity is everywhere, and Notra is just begging to be taken. She is tipping towards chaos, and Maven knows it. It’s why he’s orchestrated this wedding in the first place, why it must be so public. As much as it infuriates me, he is smart.</p>
<p>            The people will see a fairytale, and an end to a war that has stolen sons, fathers, daughters, and mothers from them. They’ll crawl over each other to thank Maven. He’ll use that and twist it to his advantage of course. I wonder how he will twist my son to his advantage in the future. What picture will he paint of him?</p>
<p>            Movement in the corner of my eye draws my attention. An attendant stands before Iris, repeating the procession order and reviewing the rest of the day. It sounds horribly boring. I’ve seen few weddings in the Stilts that are any better though. They’re normally jilted affairs, with a scramble from both families to try and make it as special as possible. My own family would have had their hands filled with all three of my brothers and Gisa. No doubt my mother would have pushed to make Gisa’s as spectacular as possible, even if it were drab. This is no such event of course. </p>
<p>            “Pity more of your family could not attend, Your Highness.”</p>
<p>            I sit up a little straighter as a new voice breaks the dull drone of the attendant. He doesn't even dare to glare in the woman's direction as he bows out of the way, and I didn’t even realize I’d been hoping for someone to break the monotony.</p>
<p>            An older woman steps away from the gaggle of ladies who were favored with invitations into this private chamber. She is dressed in a trim black dress uniform, and looks achingly familiar. A trick of the light I decide, especially with only her profile facing me. She dips her head as Iris turns to incline her head as well. I squint in response when that gesture tries to jog a far gone memory.</p>
<p>            “My mother is the ruling queen of the Lakelands. She must always sit the throne. And my older sister, her heir, is loath to leave our kingdom.”</p>
<p>            I quirk a brow as I look back and forth between the two of them. There is no tension between them, and yet, Iris’s eyes take a hard sheen as she looks the woman over. She is like a predator sizing up another new, much larger animal. There is a dangerous dance about to begin, and I relish every second of it. The room goes hushed as the two women continue talking, the whispers of everyone around them meant to hide the fact that eavesdroppers are lurking. I don’t desire Iris’s position, I used to be the person they fell silent around to hear what I had to say.</p>
<p>            “Understandable, in such tumultuous times.” The woman’s smile is tight. “My congratulations, Princess Iris.”</p>
<p>             “My thanks, Your Majesty. I’m glad you were able to join us.”</p>
<p>            I almost jerk back, searching over the woman again. Sure enough, nestled in her grey, neatly tied hair is a rose gold and black diamond crown. It’s so small anyone could miss it unless they knew to look for it. My entire being goes stiff as I try to place her. Another Queen? I haven’t seen her before, where could she possibly hail from?</p>
<p>            She turns from Iris and her eyes land on me, setting my entire being alight with burning surprise. Bronze, red-gold irises light with recognition. I’d know those eyes anywhere though. They had shone for me once and searched into the deepest parts of my soul. </p>
<p>             With a frown, the lady beckons me with a finger. Frozen to my seat, I can only stare as memories threaten to swallow me. The room melts away until it becomes the bars of a cage hurtling toward the earth, even though all I can see are those eyes whispering a hundred different secrets and promises that they will never see to fruition.</p>
<p>            Kitten grabs my arm to haul me to my feet and nudges me toward her when I hesitate too long. I stumble, taking my weight awkwardly before adjusting and ending up in front of her with my final step.</p>
<p>            “Miss Barrow.” She says, her voice threaded with curiosity as she looks me over. Self-consciously, I brush my hands over the mess of red tulle that is my skirts. Again, my outfit is carefully selected to dimmish the extent of my pregnancy. There is only so much that can be done though. When I sit or if I shift to a certain angle, it is glaringly obvious what we are trying to hide. I don’t know why Maven bothers anymore. The public knows, even if his whispers have poisoned them with lies. It is a silly game, played by a boy who is trying to keep me by his side as long as he can. I can’t imagine the lengths he will go to once my son begins to demand all my attention.</p>
<p>            “Your Majesty?” I reply, tensing when her eyes land on waistline of my dress and her brow raises in speculation. My comment truly is a question, even though I know who she is. I don’t know why I thought she would be older… or dead. I’d learned about Anabel Lerolan during my first stint in the royal palace, and had read about her in numerous editions of Julian’s books. She was a lovely queen, married to Tibarias V. A warrior and a general. I could see that clearly in her broad shoulders and study frame.</p>
<p>            Her amused smile is startling, and she reaches a hesitant hand out, only for me to pull away before her fingers can brush the skin of my cheek. She is not put off though, and simply lets her hand hover there. “I’ve been quite interested in meeting you. My grandson is not an easy man to sidetrack.”</p>
<p>            My lips purse at her inference, and I edge back infinitesimally. “I’m sorry about your son.” I drop my eyes, avoiding her gaze as I say it. While King Tiberias was not kind to me, or any Red for that matter, he did love Cal’s mother, and he loved Cal. He was not necessarily an evil man. Just weak, stubborn, and a drunk. He certainly tried, even if he didn’t try hard enough.</p>
<p>            Her hand finds my chin and lifts it so those eyes that have haunted my sleep for months can bore into mine. “Odd, given you helped to kill him.”</p>
<p>            There is no accusation in her voice. No anger. My stomach turns as she lowers her hand, and her fingers brush along the side of my neck. <em>Lerolan, Oblivion. </em>She could turn me into a tiny human bomb that could coat the walls if she wanted. I want to pull away, but pride makes me stand my ground. Her touch is an oddly gentle caress, given I thought she would hate me for the role I played in the death of her son and the fall of her grandson. I’m surprised she doesn’t try to curl her fingers around my throat and squeeze.</p>
<p>            “From one mother to another,” she whispers, her eyes burning, “my sympathies.”</p>
<p>            I blink stupidly, wondering what could have possibly possessed her to say that. She turns her back on me though, effectively dismissing me without doing so verbally. I watch her back with furrowed brows, wait for her to say something else. She is not my ally, I have to remind myself of that. I know so little about her, and yet, the way her face had softened as she touched my chin… she is an odd woman indeed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                                    (///////)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Chaos is a funny thing. I had craved it for months as a cover for escape but now, stuck in the middle of it, I can do nothing but stumble through the crowd of the square searching for a way out. I’d lost track of Maven a few seconds ago, and that is only to my advantage as I push through the bodies and try to find the best way to escape.</p>
<p>             I gag on the smoke choking the air and end up hunched over between the abandoned chairs coughing until I see stars. My dress is more of a hinderance than I thought, with the tulle becoming a tripping hazard the moment I start running. There is no where to run though. The Silvers are in a panic, rushing every which way like ants scattered from underneath a rock. I'd already been knocked off my feet once, and I won't risk getting injured right now.</p>
<p>            Gripping the back of the chair, I push to my feet, only for a gunshot to ring out. Dropping back down, I feel the splinters of a nearby chair exploding with the force of a bullet tearing through it.</p>
<p>            <em>Move. </em>A voice I don’t recognize in my head screams. Dropping into the lowest crouch I can muster, I start moving along the row of seats, keeping an eye on the crowd as it surges around me. My foot snags on something, and I end up on my side, my palms scraping on the marble of the square. When I grab my skirts and pull them out of the way, I turn away and squeeze my eyes shut against the wave of nausea that crashes on me.</p>
<p>            A young girl looks up to the sky with glassy eyes, the lower half of her body nowhere to be seen. The work of a New Blood or an Oblivion no doubt.</p>
<p>            <em>Move. Get to cover Barrow </em> It takes me a moment to recognize the voice in my head is Farley’s. I haven’t heard her voice is so long, but it sounds so close and so real that when I look up, I half expect her to be standing right behind me with her hand out to pull me to my feet. There is no sign of her even though I can see the red of the Scarlet Guard’s bandana’s and flag flashing in every break of the crowd. That broken, golden sun is everywhere, but no one stops to grab me or pull me to my feet.</p>
<p>            Following the instructions of Farley’s imaginary order, I start moving again, keeping as low as I can when bullets continue to fly through the air above me. I reach one of the buildings to the side of the square and sit huddled in the shadows, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I crane my neck to search the crowd for a familiar face. The masks hurt any chance I have of recognizing anyone though.</p>
<p>            A large hand wraps around me arm, and I scream before throwing a punch that should shatter bone. My assailant grabs my wrist before flipping me to face them. I end up almost colliding with Egg’s chest. Blood pours from a wound at his hairline, and he's covered in a film of dirt. He sneers as he says, “Gotta make this difficult, don’t you?”</p>
<p>            Dragging me to my feet, he pulls me back out into the chaos. I tug uselessly against his hold, searching for a weapon to use against him. A flash of bright blue lightning juts across the sky and is followed by an ear shattering roll of thunder. Egg drops to a knee, pulling me close to him when the ground shakes as a Snapdragon flies overhead. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear another airship peppering the ground with shells. They’ll destroy the city to wipe out this part of the Guard. People are dying all around me, innocents, and by-standers who have done nothing but hide in their homes for this assault.</p>
<p>            “Get up.” Egg hisses in my ear when my legs turn to jelly under me. He yanks me up with more force than necessary and my shoulder protests to the treatment immediately. A far off voice shouts, and I think I hear my name being called. I search wildly for the voice, hoping against all hope that it is a friend. The crowd is so thick though, that every face is a blur.</p>
<p>            Egg drags me towards the Treasury, his steps like lead as he fights the current of bodies. Overhead the storm roars, and lightning, unnatural beautiful blue lightning comes down to strike the ground. It’s not perfect though, and is not intended for us. It scatters the masses of guards and Silver nobles creating a small opening in front of us. Egg surges forward, grinning at what he thinks is luck. I know a trap when I see it though.</p>
<p>            "No-" I shout as I spin and try to put my back to the space and curl around myself to protect my unborn child. My movement jars Egg to a stop, and another bolt shatters the ground in front of his feet. He throws me to the side as shards of marble try to cut at us from the blow. When I look up from the ground, a woman with blue hair, steps forward in the space and starts walking toward us. My hand snakes out from under Egg as I reach for her, for the red scarf wrapped around her face. She quickens her pace almost to a run, before the blur of a Swift slams into her, taking her to the ground.</p>
<p>            They roll for a few feet and that gives Egg time to force me up and start a semi-sprint for the stairs of the Treasury. I buck the whole way, screaming like a banshee as I dig my nails into his wrist, his arm, anything to make him let go.</p>
<p>            Smoke starts to choke the air again, and Egg coughs pitifully as he hauls me up the steps and spits, “Damn demon, I should leave you to die here.”</p>
<p>            But I’m not listening. Where there is smoke this thick and controlled, there is a controlled fire. Where there is that, there is a prince controlling it. But the black soot and ash are so thick I can’t make out any bodies, let alone a face. But they are there, the smoke swirling around them unnaturally as they try to fight their way through it.</p>
<p>            “Cal!” I scream his name as Egg drags me across the threshold of the Treasury. Sentinels line the entrance, their abilities forcing people back at the same time that they are protecting Maven’s retreat. My fingers close around the doorway, and I grip it with all my strength as I strain against Egg. “<em>Cal!” </em>I scream his name again, hoping that over the chaos he can hear me, that he’ll come.</p>
<p>            Egg is three times my size though, and he pulls me off the door, cursing with every fiber of his being. With minimal effort, he lifts me off my feet and carries me toward the stairs at the end of the hall. I arch my back over his shoulder until it aches, screaming names until my throat is raw. Tears pour down my face, this was my chance, this was a rescue and I missed it. “Put me down!” I scream at him before digging my nails into his neck. He howls and drops me. My knees buckle when I drop, and I spin to run, but the doors of the Treasury are slowly swinging shut as the Sentinels back up toward them, and pull them closed. </p>
<p>            A small group of Scarlet Guard members are halfway up the steps when they close. Egg, wraps his arms around me in a vice, his breath icy on my ear as he spits, “you’re lucky that little Skonos bitch ordered us not to silence you, or else you’d be dead on the floor right now.”</p>
<p>            He spins to push my down a set of stairs that have been carved into the wall. I can hear a few voices in the tunnel already, but Egg doesn’t give me a chance to identify them before we start barreling down into the darkness.</p>
<p>            The tunnel is dank and cold, but Eggs drags me down it nonetheless. I trip and stumble every so often, but he force me to my feet. Overhead, a bomb exploding shakes the walls of the tunnel, and the shouts of battle rushing down the tunnel turning my blood to fire. Ahead of me, Maven’s form hurries down the steps with his coat flurrying behind him, while Iris rushes next to him, her dress like a whisper of a curtain in the breeze. The ground shakes beneath out feet and I cry out as I miss the final step and tumble to the ground. My palms strike the ground and blood immediately wells up in my already cut palms.</p>
<p>            My pain is drowned out by the sound of shouts and boots marching down the stairs. Egg yanks me to my feet once more, but there is nowhere for us to go. Maven’s breathing is erratic as he looks down the tracks for the Undertrain. There is no sign of his escape though, and he slowly turns from the composed king into the panicked, wounded animal I know him to be. He might have planned for an assault, but not one of this magnitude.</p>
<p>            A set of amber eyes cut through the darkness to the side of the platform, and I almost cry in relief before realizing who they are attached too. Even in the dark, Anabel cuts an impressive figure. She searches our group until she finds me trying to catch my breath. Running has never felt so excruciating. My lungs burn, and my diaphragm hitches with every inhale when it meets my child’s body that is pressed up against it.</p>
<p>           “Sit down,” she urges me and grabs my arm from Egg to help me to the ground near her. I pull out of her grip, fear coursing through me. I don’t want her fingers anywhere near me or my baby. I end up stumbling away and almost fall to my hands and knees. My vision swims with tears. I’d been so close. Cal has to be here, he wouldn’t let this assault go forward without him. If I had just been a little bolder, a little braver in the square, I could have searched for him. All I could think about was getting to cover though, waiting out the panic and chaos until I could slip away.</p>
<p>            There are shouts from the steps, and we all spin to face the body that comes clattering down in its armor. The Sentinel’s cape is singed and his armor smolders, the reek of burnt flesh permeates the space around us. My stomach almost can’t handle the stench and I gag pathetically, even as a bolt of pure adrenaline runs through me. Maybe… I didn’t have to find him, maybe he had been right behind me the whole time.</p>
<p>            There is silence for a few moments, until the sound of boots returns. There is more than one person coming down, but judging by the tick in Maven’s jaw he knows who one of them will be. I glance left and right too, a smile pulling at my cheeks until they ache. A laugh threatens to bubble up in my throat, but I’m so breathless, it sounds more like I’m still trying to catch my breath. Egg slowly slides toward Maven to protect him, leaving me exposed, leaving me <em>free</em>. My heart pounds as I turn my eyes to the stairs and bunch my muscles to sprint, to jump and get myself as far away from Maven and this wedding party as possible. I’ll bury myself in the ranks of the Scarlet Guard until this is over. </p>
<p>            The person who emerges at the bottom of the stairs is not Cal.</p>
<p>            My stomach plummets and my heart skips a beat in surprise. A young man with hair dyed green looks us all over with a wicked grin, until his gaze lands on me. His brow rises, and his finger twitch at his side. Bolts of green lightning dance between his knuckles like webbing, and for a moment my body strains against the manacles, drawn to that iridescent light. My ears ring as my body fights the manacles, desperately stretching to reach the source of electricity that I have been starved of for so long.</p>
<p>            With a mocking bow, he grins in Maven’s direction and says, “<em>Your Majesty.</em>”</p>
<p>            Iris slowly bleeds backwards into her guards, her eyes darting as she takes in this strange young man with his odd green uniform, and confident smirk.</p>
<p>            More boots, and a ramshackle army appears behind him, red sashes wrapped around their wrists, waists, and faces. In the darkness of the tunnels, I can’t make out any features. They’re here though, the Guard is here. I don’t care if Cal’s among this group or not. My family is with the Guard, and safety is just a jump away.</p>
<p>             I coil up again to spring, before I can leap though, Maven’s hand grabs the back of my dress and he drags me toward him. I slam into his chest and practically bounce off him with the force of my body hitting his. The green haired man takes a step forward but Maven drags me to my feet, and presses me against his front again, his breath hot on my temple as wraps his hand around my throat.</p>
<p>             “Take a step closer and I’ll break her neck.” He warns. I try to twist, and claw at the arm he has banded around my shoulders to keep me pressed against him, but he holds fast. His touch burns, it’s the hottest his skin as ever been against mine. Frustration burns through me. I thought it would be despair, but it is just pure, undiluted fury and frustration. My freedom and my child’s was within my grasp but I let it slip through my fingers like sand again.</p>
<p>              “Mavey.”</p>
<p>              The green haired man turns to glance behind him, his expression unreadable as the body attached to the voice still ringing through the gloom steps forward. Maven’s grip tightens on me, and the hand around my throat begins to burn. I gasp at the sensation, and reach up to pry his fingers off my neck. He wrestles me back into stillness, but his eyes are set on the man before both of us.</p>
<p>              His lips curl into a sneer on the arch of my ear as Cal reaches up and pulls the red cloth down to reveal the rest of his features. He looks more haggard than I’ve ever seen him. Even at the Notch when he hadn’t shaved for days he had never looked so weary and drawn. My eyes dart to Anabel, but she does nothing except watch her grandson hold a hand out to Maven.</p>
<p>              “You won’t kill her, you and I both know that.” Cal’s voice is surprisingly gentle. I suppose he doesn’t want to incense Maven further with my life hanging in the balance. Maven doesn’t like being spoken to like a child though, and I thought Cal had finally learned that stupid lesson.</p>
<p>               “Do we?” Maven goads, before dropping the hand from around my throat. The sing of metal leaving a sheath makes Cal take another quick step forward, his eyes widening. A cold blade presses to my throat immediately, and Maven’s voice echoes around the chamber. “The baby dies and she bleeds out if you take another step.”</p>
<p>               Cal’s eyes dart around, taking in the Sentinels, obviously weighing his options and how quickly he could move. His eyes lock with his grandmother’s and his jaw tightens at whatever he sees there. </p>
<p>                “You wouldn’t kill the mother of your child.” A voice spits, laced with poison. My heart pounds as I search the crowd for the source. A lanky form appears behind Cal in the gloom, and bottle green eyes flash with disgust. “You’re a monster, but not in that way.”</p>
<p>                So they have heard the rumors, even in the Guard, and they believe Maven's lies. </p>
<p>               “Step back,” Maven warns, and nicks my skin with the knife as he edges backwards too. I reach up to grab his wrist to steady his grip. He’s not one for weapons, his words have always done the fighting for him. I fear his hand slipping and cutting open my neck. Wren is with us, I saw her tiny frame behind Maven, but I doubt she will be able to save me and my baby in time. I hold my hand up to stop anyone from moving, panic slowing everything around me until I’m certain I exist in a separate time from everyone else.</p>
<p>                My chest hitches as a pearl of blood rolls down my neck, leaving a warm trailing behind it. Cal eyes the drop, a muscle in his jaw feathering. I wish he would look up at my face, I wish he would look <em>up </em>so that I can tell him the truth because there is no light of desperation in his eyes. Or maybe he’s smothered it with the cool confidence of a soldier so he doesn’t make a rash decision. I’d rather he were spitting fire and seething though. I’ve had enough of cold, dead stares in this place.</p>
<p>               “Back up, Warren.” Cal murmurs, putting his hand on Kilorn’s chest and nudging him backwards, but never taking his eyes off the knife at my throat. My friend protests, but someone else grabs his arm yanks him back into the gloom.</p>
<p>                Maven’s breath is shaky on my ear, as the tunnel begins to rumble. <em>The Undertrain</em>, I think belatedly, and sure enough a squeal of brakes announces the strange transport. Cal’s eyes finally move from me a light blinds the rest of the Guard members with him.</p>
<p>                “Cal,” I wheeze his name over the clatter of the wheels, and he finally turns his eyes to my face. For a moment, I am back at the Notch, drowning in that gaze as he cupped my jaw and branded me in his own way. I’m plummeting through the sky with the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy. His eyes had never left mine there, and they do the same here when the Undertrain creates a breeze that snaps at my skirts and the hairs that have fallen out of my updo. Even on the Blackrun after Corros when I had screamed obscene things at him and he had taken every single one like they were truth, I had felt close to him. Now, it feels like a chasm is open between us, with no hope of jumping across it.</p>
<p>                There are so many things I want to say, so many things I <em>need </em>him to know. Maven pulls me back toward the tracks though. I fight him, trying to face Cal for as long as possible. I have to tell him, I have to tell him <em>now. </em></p>
<p>                “I’m getting on this train, and she’s coming with me. If anyone tries to stop us from leaving, I’ll slit her throat.” He warns as the doors hiss open behind us. The Lakelander soldiers push Iris through them first, and Wren scurries after, followed by Anabel and the Arvens.</p>
<p>                Cal’s expression twists painfully, and he raises his hand slightly from his side, as if he has half a thought to grab me and pull me toward him. If he lets me get on this train, we both know he will never see me again.</p>
<p><em>                It’s yours</em>, I mouth, because there is no way in hell Maven would let me say those words out loud. If I’m never going to see him again though, he needs to know this. He has to know when he sees the broadcasts in the future with me and the baby that it’s his, that there is still hope of saving me; that there is something beautiful and wonderful that came out of whatever we had.</p>
<p><em>                It’s your son</em>, I try again, hoping against all hope that I form those words carefully enough for him to understand. He stops dead in his tracks, his skin going ashen. Does he understand? Or is it finally occurring to him that this is the last time we will ever be this close? He will not get another chance to rescue me. </p>
<p>                Maven steps over the threshold and the doors close with a hiss in front of my face. The Sentinels step in front of the doors, ready to die and hold off the little group. In the window, I watch as the New Blood with the green hair leaps forward at them. Cal’s mouth forms what looks like the word <em>no </em>and he grabs the man around the middle, jarring him to a halt. The lights overhead flicker, and somewhere, on the very edges of my perception, I sense the rush of electricity that floods the train as it lurches forward.</p>
<p>                My last view of them is Kilorn bursting through the line of Sentinels and of Cal leaping after him onto the tracks, trying to chase the train down. It’s only two cars, and from where I am when I crane my neck and glance through the back window, I watch him slowly come to a stop. His hands clenched into fists at his side as he gets swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel. Kilorn goes a few steps further than him, before screaming something at the back of the train and throwing whatever is in his hands. We’re moving too fast for it to hit us, but still I imagine the clank of whatever it is hitting the back.</p>
<p>              When we are far enough away, Maven forces me into a seat as we are plunged into pure darkness as the train rattles over the tracks and through a dark tunnel. When the lights flicker to life inside, he is pacing before me, working off the anxiety of his escape. Iris watches his movements, her dark eyes like chips of ice as she measures up the situation. Does she see the cracks now? How close he is to the tipping point?</p>
<p>             “The Leralon estate is still the safest place.” Anabel’s voice might as well have blown the car to pieces like her ability. Maven flips around to spit something at her, but she raises her hand to stop him. “The plan has always been to retreat there. If you change it now, all the forces you sent there will be useless. It is fortified, and Cal will never cross me by trying to lay siege to it.”</p>
<p>             Her eyes move to me and narrow. I wonder if she is weighing those words, trying to determine if he may do that just to save me. Or did she see what I tried to convey to Cal? I look away before I can truly read her expression, my hand falling to my stomach as I bite back the emotions that surge through me. My anger has cooled to sadness, and a tendril of it curls into a knot in my chest. Strangest of all though, is the odd flicker of resolution. That was my last chance, my last hope standing on those tracks watching me disappear. A bitter tinged hope tries to take seed in my chest. Maybe he got the message and he can use that to carry him forward. I have to use it too, and believe that he knows the truth. I drop my head into my hand and let myself float in the darkness behind my eyelids.</p>
<p>            “Her Majesty is right.” Iris murmurs, and rises from her seat with a whisper of silk. “The estate is fortified. My guards and yours will keep us safe from these terrorists.”</p>
<p>            “You don’t know him,” Maven grinds through his teeth, but the words are like a hiss of air. He’s outvoted and outnumbered. Egg is his only guard, and he is surrounded by Iris’s soldiers in their blue and white. She could take him now, kill him if she wanted, but she doesn’t. I suppose she thinks Anabel will protect Maven. I highly doubt it though.</p>
<p>            Still the train rattles on, taking us further and further away from Archeon and down to Delphie.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Part 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To everyone who had commented, thank you, you guys really kept me going with this story. To everyone who left Kudos, thank you, you guys also kept me going. To everyone who has read so far, thank you, you guys keep me going. (: </p><p>I almost combined the final two parts into one for this chapter, but then changed my mind when I realized how long that second part would be. So, here we are. Give me angst or give me death. </p><p>Side note: I do want to run a little poll ((: When I write the chapter in the Notch aka baby barrow Calore's conception I would like to know what POV YOU ALL want it from: Mare, Cal, or third person. (: <br/>Please leave your vote in your comment if you would like to participate. ((((: </p><p>Happy Reading (((:</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part 5</strong>
</p><p>           The Lerolan estate is bigger than I expect, with sprawling hallways bedecked in the orange and red of the royal house it hosts. I feel like I am drowning in fire whenever I go exploring under the context of walking. At first Egg followed me around, but when he finally realized that I had deflated and was resigned to remaining exactly where I was, he began to drift. Most of his time is spent protecting Maven until more Sentinels can arrive. The boy king is more paranoid than ever.</p><p>            Egg’s idiocy is my victory though. It took me some time, but after a week, I’d finally found what I was looking for: a door in the wall of a forgotten study, with a dusty servants passage behind it. I knew they existed in Harbor Bay, Cal had pulled me through them with Farley during our panicked escape from Ocean Hill, but I had only hoped they would be here too. I suppose I am due with some luck though. </p><p>            Upon quick inspection I can tell that most of the passages have been abandoned. Given there are very few people staying in the estate with us, and Anabel herself had been absent for some time so that this haunting place had sat empty during the winter, it makes sense. Due to the sensitive nature of Maven and Iris’s safety, most of the servants had been sent away too, except for the ones that Anabel explicitly trusted. With no way to test their loyalty given that Samson had apparently been lost in the Archeon siege, Maven had no choice but to rely on them and his grandmother's word. With so few of them wandering the estate though, the likelihood of one being in a passageway while I was in one for a few hours was slim. So I’d gone in search of the most isolated one I could find, just to be safe.</p><p>             I’d wandered in them for a few hours every day, until I’d found the perfect one it the west wing of the estate. It was tucked away, and most likely functioned as an old cross roads for some of the guest rooms. But this wing is completely empty, since it faces the back of the estate, and the gardens that stretch toward the deep forest behind it. it provides not military advantage, and is harder to patrol and keep. But Maven's loss is my gain. After all, I can feel time slipping away like the final grains of sand dropping to the bottom of an hour glass. I’d started gathering blankets immediately, and vases full of water before stocking up the small space for what I know is rapidly approaching.</p><p>            Now, as I hurry toward that space, I try to keep my eyes from watering and my pace from reaching suspicious speeds. I’d hidden the effects as long as possible today by bundling up the soaked sheets I’d woken in and throwing them to the back of the closet before the maids could find them, and by trying to sit as much as I could to avoid my legs collapsing. But the pains are too much now, and I had barely escaped my rooms. In my frantic hurry, I’d left behind my crude map in the drawer of my nightstand. Cursing myself as I pause to lean against a side table to let the waves of pain wash over me, I try to recall it from memory.</p><p>            “I do hope your hopeless wandering does not serve the purpose of locating an unlocked window.”</p><p>            Glancing back at Anabel as she approaches me, I try to stand a little straighter and hide my grimace as another wave of pain washes over me. She had been so silent, I hadn’t even heard her approaching. I can’t exactly tell her that I’m like a frightened animal looking for my quiet, dark place to hide for the next few hours. Nor can I tell her what the rippling pains tearing though me mean. I haven’t the faintest clue what her intentions might be, and I refuse to be blindsided by anything right now. </p><p>            “I was just—” I almost double over as another contraction rips through me. Grabbing the doorframe nearest to me, I squeeze my eyes shut and grind my teeth together. They’re getting closer. It won’t be long now.</p><p>            I need more<em> time</em>. I need to find some place to hide and then a way to escape. I won’t let Maven get his hands on this baby. Regardless of our deal, I have a feeling it won’t stand, not after what had happened in Archeon. I had been stupid to believe he would let me have any part in my son’s life other than bringing him into the world.</p><p>            Anabel’s thin fingers grip one of my arms and slowly pull me to stand upright. Her touch is stern, but gentle a she sets another hand on my back. “How close are they? Have you been counting?”</p><p>            “Too close.” I whisper, so shocked at the tenderness with which she speaks and supports me that I give her that valuable truth for free. And yet, her tenderness is what I would have expected from my mother or a mother in general. I had been so certain she would rather see me drown than touch me because of her hated for me because what I did to Cal and the fate I thrust him upon him. Her attention scares me nonetheless. Maven has intentions for my child, no doubt Anabel has some as well. I bet even Iris has been slowly forming a plot to use my son. How am I supposed to protect him from all of them when I’m still trying to protect myself?</p><p>            “Then you need to be in bed.” She pulls me in the direction of my rooms and I immediately pull against her hold. Her nails dig into my arm as she pulls me to her side and wraps an arm around my shoulders to herd me forward. My legs are shaking and I have no choice but to go with her or risk collapsing in the hall.</p><p>              “Everything has been taken care of.” She urges me when she senses the shift in my weight to pull back from her. Her breath is surprisingly cold against my ear as she guides me down hallways. I have no choice but to stop every few minutes though when the pain becomes so intense that my vision goes white. She waits patiently though, coaching my in whispers through each agonizing wave.</p><p>            <em>I’m not ready</em>. Regardless of the mental preparation I have been doing the past few months, I know that I am not ready for this moment. I am not ready for us to no longer be connected. I’m not ready for this child to face Maven and be trapped just as much as I am.  A wave of regret washes over me, drowning me. Before, the consequences had been that only I had to suffer through this, until I had stopped suffering and suspiciously began trying to enjoy these final months. Now, I hate that my baby must also face the consequences of my actions. It’s not even born yet and it’s already paying for my decisions and it’s father’s.</p><p>            As we turn the final corner, I spot Wren leaving my rooms, folding a sheet over her arm. She stops dead at the end of the hallway when she sees us, and then turns and hurries back into the room.</p><p>            “I want to do it myself.” I force through my teeth as Anabel pushes me through the doorway. Two servant stand at nervous attention off to the side, one of them holding an empty basin for water and the other with a stack of sheets and towels.</p><p>           “I want to do this by myself.” I repeat as I rip myself out of Anabel’s hands to collapse against the nearest wall. Sweat is already starting to run down my neck, and I feverishly wipe at it. he fewer people there are around me during this, the better. I don't want people whispering, I don't want anyone to know my son when he arrives. </p><p>            Anabel lets me stand on my own for a few seconds, but hovers close to my side. Her amber eyes are the same shade as Cal’s, so when I look up through my blurry vision, I almost mistake her for him.</p><p>            “Regardless of how strong you think you are, you will need help.” She murmurs, and I frown wondering how she could possibly know that. It’s a stupid thought. She birthed her own Calore son and I’m sure was there while Cal’s mother delivered him. I’d seen a portrait of that lonely queen in this massive estate a few days ago during my wanderings. She had looked sad, and delicate. I couldn’t imagine someone of her stature carrying a baby that grew into the man I knew. Then again, a year ago I wouldn't have imagined doing it either. </p><p>            She guides me off the wall and towards the bed, snapping her fingers at one of the maids and ordering a sleeping gown for me. The girl bobs in a quick curtsey before leaving the room at a half walk, half jog.</p><p>            “She was fine this morning I—” Wren stammers as she hurries to my side and takes my other arm to support me as well.</p><p>            “She was hiding it.”  Anabel interrupts Wren as she helps me shrug off my jacket. “She’s been in labor all day and kept it a secret, probably thought she could find a broom closet and do the deed there.” She speaks like I am a rat trying to crawl into the sewer. It contrasts so sharply with how she spoke to me in the hall and seconds ago that I do a double take, my head spinning with the effort. She is still the same woman, albeit with a dark glint in her eye. If I didn't know how a very similar pair of amber eyes worked, I could have thought that glint was dangerous. Time with a fire prince has told me it is fear that makes those eyes that color. </p><p>            Wren’s lips draw into a tight line that turns them black, but she doesn’t speak as she pulls my shirt off and takes the nightgown from the servant that brings it. The girl backs away quickly her eyes wide as she takes me in through her eyelashes.     </p><p><em>            Take a long look</em>, I want to jeer, <em>this is the last thing you want to do at some point in your life</em>.</p><p>             Before I say anything, Wren spins to her and speaks instead. “Inform the king that she is in labor.”</p><p>              The girl frowns again as she rises from her bow, and turns her eyes to Anabel, obviously awaiting either her orders or a counter to Wren's. The older woman hesitates for a fraction of a second, but nods nonetheless, the lines near her eyes pulling as she sets her jaw and helps me stand when I double over with a groan. My legs are like lead blocks, and every second threatens to be the one where I collapse to the floor and stay there. A wave of pain washes over me again, and I let out a sound that is so disturbing the servant scurries away, her face going sheet white. Squeezing my eyes shut, I hiss a breath through my teeth.</p><p>              When I was younger and pictured myself years down the line in an impossible scenario where I might have children, I imagined my mother would be here with me for this moment. Her worn, cool hands brushing my hair away from my neck while she whispered encouragement in my ear. I thought Kilorn would be on the other side of the door that just closed with a click, pacing while his hands ripping his hair out. Instead, he’s nowhere in the picture. Cal isn’t on the other side of that door either, he’s miles away from me. Only Iris’s gods might know where he is now.</p><p>            “Easy,” Anabel whispers in my ears, and if I strain, I can turn her voice into my mother’s. “Get her onto the bed.” She orders Wren around as if the young woman hasn’t been the one handling this whole situation from the beginning. I would cackle if I wasn’t in so much pain as I’m lifted onto the bed. Anabel surprising takes most of my weight. I figured with her age she wouldn't be able to do much, but she lifts and moves me as if I weigh nothing, as if I'm not carrying an extra fifteen pounds on me. The moment I feel the silk of the comforter under my palms, I curl into a little ball and seek out the cool brush of them on my burning cheeks. The room is too hot, and yet too cold at the same time.</p><p>            Anabel leaves my side, her fingers brushing against my lower back as she departs as if alerting me to her position. I feel like a wild animal when she does that. I suppose I am though, the sounds I’ve made the past few minutes have certainly bordered on animalistic. Her voice rings through the room as she begins feeding orders like she’s seen this a hundred times before. The other servant is sent to retrieve more linens, and pitchers of cool water, Wren is ordered to help me into the gown. Anabel is a general on a battlefield, commanding these women like a well ordered machine. I can see how Cal may have gotten his composure under pressure if he learned from her.</p><p>            A part of me is grateful that she is by my side, even if she is not <em>on</em> my side necessarily. She told me days ago that she loved Cal, that he had been a light after the loss of his mother. I hope that love is strong enough for her to transfer some of it to my son in the coming hours.</p><p>           </p><p>            (/////)</p><p> </p><p>            “Cal!” I scream his name so loud as I throw my head back that my throat burns on it, and it turns in a sob halfway through. It echoes beyond the room and down the gleaming halls of the Leralorn estate. I know it does. This estate is the bare bones of a beautiful place while Maven commands it. Servants fluttering in near silence is the only sound along with the hushed sound of Maven’s whispers with the few advisors that have come. My voice is the loudest thing this estate has seen in some time.</p><p>           He must hear me in the library where I know he’s taken up residence to plan an assault after the disaster his wedding was, and to wait out the birth of my son. I feel like a bird watching a snake slowly approach her eggs. He is just outside the safety of my nest, stalking, waiting until I close my eyes for a few seconds.</p><p>           I hope he hears me now, and I hope he knows that in my darkest, most painful hours, I’m calling for his brother. I want him to hurt like I am now. I want him to burn and writhe like I do.</p><p>           The lamp on the bedside table had shattered hours ago, and now Wren and the two Red women she called to aid her work by the light of dozens of candles scattered around the room to dispel the darkness. It was Anabel’s brilliant idea after the manacles had to come off to prevent my heart from collapsing again. The shattered lamp had stunned her, and she had looked at me with a different kind of interest afterward. A thread of respect haunted her eyes, but she did not say anything to me.</p><p>           I wish it were still light outside, that the sun were still up. Instead, I am delivering in darkness, as if even whatever forgotten gods still exist are trying to cover this event up. It’s been hours, long excruciating hours and still I am no closer to being done. Every hour that passes digs new trenches in Wren’s beautiful face, and her worry coats every order like honey. Her hands shake as she does what she can for my pain. She refused to alleviate it completely though, worried she might miss a dangerous sign if she did.</p><p>          Anabel sits on the periphery, her eyes like pools of fire in the dark reflection of the candlelight. She took to pacing some time ago, and I’m surprised she hasn’t worn a trench into the carpet by the doors to the bedroom.</p><p>          Another contraction rips through me, and I open my mouth to expel the scream that comes with it while I push. Nothing but a sob comes out though. I want this to be over. I change my mind, I want to go back nine months and pull myself out of Cal’s bed before this could happen. I regret this. I want it to end. I want it to be over and done with. But I don’t want it to be at the same time. When this is done, my son will be here and he’ll be completely defenseless while I recover. He won’t make it without me, not if Maven is as furious as I know he is.</p><p>          “Make it stop,” I cry as another contraction comes on the tail end of the previous. Wren glances up at me with a bead of sweat rolling down her temple and grimaces. I’m soaked in it compared to her, with the nightgown sticking to my back and my hair stuck to my neck and face. I must look half deranged like this. One of the servants steps forward to take my hand, and press a cool cloth to my neck. Water joins the sweat rolling down my back as she squeezes some of it out. It does nothing to cool me down though. </p><p>           “You’re doing wonderful,” she whispers to me, the words only for me, spoken like a true mother. I grit my teeth against them and the next contraction. They’re a continuous wave at this point with no ending or beginning. The room swims in front of me, and I drop my chin to push again. I have to be close, I have to be almost done. It’s been <em>hours</em>.</p><p>           Wren had tried everything short of cutting me open and pulling the baby out. We’d tried having me deliver while standing and that had failed miserably. She’d tried to put me in a bath and have me deliver that way, but nothing came from it. So we were back to square one, which simply consisted of me on my back desperately pushing with everything I had. So far, it felt like I had made no progress.</p><p>           Now, she drops between my legs again, and I grind my teeth together to push. I'm praying for the first time in my life as I do. I pray to Iris’s gods, whoever they may be to help me. I pray to long forgotten creatures in the sky to give me the strength I need. I pray to Shade, my favorite brother to help me. <em>Please</em>, I whisper to him, <em>help him. Your nephew’s dying before he can even breathe. </em></p><p>           My son’s kicks had grown weaker over the hours until they had almost stopped all together. He still hasn’t kicked in some time now, and panic like never before races through me at the thought. It surges along my nerves burning away the pain long enough for me to groan and push again.</p><p>           Wren’s excited cry draws my attention. She is practically sobbing herself when she says, “I see the head. By my colors, <em>finally</em>.”</p><p>           The servant drops the cloth and grips my hand in both of hers, using her shoulder to support me while her eyes boring into mine like lighting. “Almost there, almost done. Strong breath, strong push.” She urges with a smile that enunciates the lines around the corners of her eyes.</p><p>            “Can’t.” My entire body is on fire as I try to follow her instructions. Each subsequent push is weaker, and I feel myself slowly falling backward into the darkness behind my eyelids. The only tether to the world is the servant whispering hurriedly in my ear, urging me on, and Wren’s voice, far away telling me it’s almost over.</p><p>           I close my eyes completely, letting that darkness swallow me as I fall back into numbness. When I open my eyes again it’s to a beautiful sky. Trees, and dappled autumn sunlight flash in the place of that elegant room’s ceiling. Warm grass under my back cradles me and I want to just lay there forever in the serenity of the moment. The pain is gone, replaced by a cold numbness so out of place with the fire I had felt seconds ago.</p><p>            Something lands on my stomach, and I grunt before opening my eyes to a pair of honey irises. <em>Beautiful</em>, I think, <em>he’s beautiful.</em> My son smiles at me, almost a mimicry of the crooked grin his father used to give me when I teased him.</p><p>           “Momma,” he says to me quietly, his voice a hundred different people’s at once. I brush my fingers through his dark hair smiling at him as he rests his chin on his arms that he’s folded over my chest.</p><p><em>            Shade.</em> I whisper to him, and he giggles at the name before reaching a chubby hand out for me and touching my cheek. <em>Gentle</em>, <em>he’s so gentle too.</em></p><p>             “Up, open your eyes.” Wren’s panicked cry drags me out of the dream as the servant presses another cold cloth to my neck and then to my forehead as she pushes me to sit up. </p><p>              “Stay awake.” Wren’s voice is laced with determination as she looks up at me, her dark eyes holding mine.</p><p>               A part of me knows this is it, my time is up, and I have to hope I am strong enough to withstand Maven for both my son and myself. Pressing myself against the headboard, and ignoring the sharp pain down my back, I groan as I push a final time. Something tears, and agony rips through me as I sob. I feel it the moment he truly leaves me. Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness I recognize how hollow, and empty and cold I am in the wake of his departure. He’d become a staple, a part of me during these six grueling months. It’s as if a part of myself has been torn out.</p><p>              Wren’s eyes are wide, and her lips pull into a bright smile as she slowly rises up from leaning between my legs.</p><p>              “Is he alive?” I gasp as she sits back, her smile dying and turning worried as the silence prolongs. “He should be crying, he should have cried.” I watch her accept a towel from one of the servants and softly wipes at my son’s face. I can’t see him from my position where I’m propped up by my elbows.</p><p><em>               Please, let him cry. I’ll do anything if you just let him cry. Please, please let him cry.  </em>I don’t even know who I’m pushing that thought to, maybe Shade again since he gave me the strength to finish this.</p><p>            The silence in the room is heavy, and Anabel slowly approaches the bed during it, her brows furrowed. I strain to lift myself up, my heart already connected to the baby laying so very still in Wren’s arms. Before I can sob and demand to hold him, a shrill cry splits the air, and my sob turns into a cry of joy. Reaching my arms out, my hands stretch for him as I say, “let me see him.”</p><p>            Wren glances at me with a coy smile, her eyes bright as she leans forward to push me back among the pillows and lay my child on my chest. “<em>She </em>is very beautiful, and healthy.” She whispers to me as I close my hands over the baby’s wrinkled skin. She’s small, but heavier than expected against my chest. Soaked in my blood my baby looks every bit the warrior I am.</p><p>            My smile slowly falls as I glance up at Wren though. Burning fear slices through me, sharper than any knife or any blow. My hand trails along the slick mop of black hair already on her head as I choke. “No… it’s—it’s a boy. It has to be a <em>boy.” </em></p><p>Wren’s smile dies when she sees the pure panic in my eyes. She shakes her head slowly, her eyes darting to Anabel as she says, “it is a girl, in perfect health.”</p><p>            She climbs off the bed, and I glance down at my daughter. Her eyes slowly flutter open, grey-brown and cloudy for now. She blinks them rapidly as if trying to focus while her little fist pushes against my chest and she squirms with her cries. She’s small, smaller than I thought she would be give how hard I worked to deliver her. But she is <em>beautiful.</em> Her ruddy cheeks are the first thing that sends a breath of relief though me.  Ten fingers, ten toes, I count both twice just to be certain. She is perfect, but <em>she </em>cannot be here.  </p><p>            “I will go inform His Majesty.” Wren says as she heads for the doors. I almost leap up from the bed, only for the servant to push me back down with a hushed warning to not move too suddenly. A blossom of heat between my legs and a sharp pain makes me groan and collapse backwards, proving her right. </p><p>            Wren flips around at the sound I make, dropping the sheets she had gathered before hurrying toward me. She lifts my nightgown once more, and the fear in her eyes tells me what I need to know before she even says it. “You’re still bleeding… too much. It’s too much blood.”</p><p>            I don’t care, I don’t care what happens to me. Just moments ago I had been so certain the baby in my arms would be my son, but my daughter is here now, and Maven will not let her live. “You can’t tell Maven. Tell him she died in birth, that she was still born.”</p><p>            Wren’s eyes snap to me, and I’m reminded of the last time I asked her to lie about something like this. Anabel frowns behind her back and glares in my direction before beckoning the servants and whispering to them. As soon as she finishes, the ladies curtsey to her and leave the room in a hurry.</p><p>            I cling to my baby as I search the room for a way out, or a contingency plan. I’m exhausted, but I’ve been exhausted before and still run from worse. The tunnels in the walls are my only escape, and I have to hope Wren does not know about them. Or that Anabel turns blind eyes long enough for me to stumble through them. I don’t even know what I’ll do when I get out. Where will I go? I’m still bleeding, and I just gave <em>birth</em>. I don’t know where the Guard is stationed, and I have no hope of making it to the next town without dying in the woods around the estate.</p><p>            “You and I will speak with the King.” Anabel whispers, grabbing Wren’s arm and pulling her away from me. “My ladies have gone to fetch cloth for the blood. It will stop in time.”</p><p>            Wren wears her uncertainty on her face like a shroud. Her eyes are settled on my daughter who lets out tiny, inaudible cries while she squirms in the towel Wren caught her in. She’s still covered in my blood and I’m sure there is a number of things Wren is still supposed to do, but she lets Anabel pull her out of the room.  </p><p>            When the doors click shut, I try to swing my legs out of the bed. More blood spills on the inside of my thighs as I move, staining the sheets in a puddle under me. Setting my jaw, even though it still aches from clenching it earlier, I try to push to my feet.</p><p>            It’s one step at a time. One foot in front of the other until I get to the closet. From there it’s one foot in front of the other until I’m in the servants’ passages and tunnels. One foot in front of the other until I can taste fresh air and emerge into the early morning.</p><p>            Clutching my daughter to my chest, I put one foot on the floor, and set my eyes on my freedom and hers.</p><p> </p><p>            (/////)</p><p> </p><p>            Wren Skonos had not delivered a baby on her own before in her life. She had helped, and observed of course, but had not delivered one by herself. Glancing down at her hands while she follows the former queen through the halls of the Lerolan estate, she observes the blood that is coating her hands. It’s already starting to dry, but it’s still warm for some reason. She can still feel the weight of that baby in her arms from when she caught it. It had been lighter than she thought, and yet so much heavier too. That poor little girl doesn't know who she is, <em>what </em>she is. Wren had searched her face for a recognizeable feature, anything that said she might be Cal’s, but had found nothing except for her jet black hair. Perhaps she had escaped the misfortune of looking like a traitor.</p><p>            For a terrifying moment, Wren had though the baby was dead. She’d been so still and silent with her eyes closed. There was no tell-tale flutter of eyelashes, or gentle rise and fall of the chest. It wasn’t until she’d felt the little patter of its heart, and it had opened its mouth and coughed up something liquid before wailing that she realized how beautiful the moment was. Even Barrow had been emotional with tears streaming down her flushed cheeks from her exertion.</p><p>            Something had ached in Wren at the sound of that baby’s cry. For months she thought her work would be fruitless, that Mare Barrow would succeed in her endeavors to prevent this life from coming into the world. For a while, Wren wanted to help her. Simply because of the desperation with which this strange Red girl tried. She supposed if she were being held prisoner she would not want to bring her child into a prison cell either. But Wren had her orders. Her life depending on her following them, and Ptolemus’s did too, whether he knew it or not. Her heart squeezed at thought of him and the miles that separated them. The Samos family had fled during the wedding, but she had been grabbed from the safety of his hands by a Sentinel who noticed she was missing from the party with Mare in it.</p><p>            They had abandoned her.</p><p>            <em>No.</em> She told herself as she looked up and clenched her hands into fists. Ptolemus would not abandon her to whatever fate Maven had for her. She just had to be patient. She’d been patient for a long time before this.</p><p>            When the doors to the library were opened in front of her, Wren halted at the threshold even though Anabel walked through and stopped in the center of the room. She could do it, lie and say the baby was stillborn. She could take it and run it out into the countryside. There were plenty of Red villages dotting the roads. All she had to do was pick a door and leave that baby on its doorstep. The horrible fate she had seen in Barrow’s eyes when she’d been told it was a girl could be avoided. Wren had no doubts in her mind that Maven would kill that baby. He would present it to the public, tell them whose it was and then kill it, just so that his brother could feel his heart being ripped out of his chest.</p><p>            “What is it?” Maven’s voice was cold as he turned from the bank of windows where he was standing with his shoulders pulled back and his hands clasped behind his back. He looks older than his eighteen years when he stands like that. Even tonight, it is as if he has aged another ten.The dark shadows under his eyes called for Wren to heal them, but he always refused her work. He kept no healer, which had almost cost him during the coup. It had been fortunate Wren had been close because of Barrow. She hesitated to think what could have happened if she had not been there to save him. </p><p>            Behind him, lounging in a chair with a book open in her lap, the Princess of the Lakelands—no the Queen of Norta—watched Wren with an expectant eye and a raised brow. She was so different than Evangeline. Wren’s friend had always been so clear about her intentions and there was comfort in that. Iris Cyrgent was an enigma, with a code that no one knew how to interpret.</p><p>            “It is done.” Anabel said, her voice strangely coated with some emotion. Wren stepped into the room and glanced at her with a furrowed brows. Was that…<em>pride? </em>It couldn’t be. The former queen had made it very clear that she did not care for Mare Barrow or the baby she carried. Her allegiance with her eldest grandson had been torn to pieces according to Anabel herself when she spoke with Maven weeks ago. Wren had heard about it from Elane who had spied on the meeting to report back to Evangeline.</p><p>            Iris’s book snapped closed with a sound that echoed in the silence of the room. Maven’s face went slack, and then hardened again. If Wren had not been observing him like Evangeline ordered for months, she would have missed how he subtly rested his hand on the desk to catch his weight.</p><p>            “Well?” He demanded, his composer quickly returning.</p><p>            Wren warred with herself. If she lied, she would be found out. Maven would kill her, and he would hurt Ptolemus too. But she wasn’t sure she could live with putting that sweet, tiny baby’s fate in Maven’s shaking hands. He would not be able to handle the weight of that life, of its future. Her mind went round in circles, chasing itself. She pictured Ptolemus’s face, and the faces of the children they could have had. Then she saw that little girl’s lips pulling open in a cry that had warmed her to her very core.</p><p>            Anabel cleared her throat, and Wren’s eyes snapped up from the carpet where she hadn’t even realized she was staring. Starting under the gazes of everyone in the room, she laced her fingers together in front of her chest and squeezed. When she was little, her mother used to do that too, and had told Wren is helped her be centered. <em>Easy in decisions, easy at heart </em>her mother had always said.</p><p>            “Mother and daughter are healthy.” Wren finally whispered, her heart cracking a fraction more in her chest. Silently, she said another apology to Barrow, she’d lost track of how many times she had done that in the past six months. It felt as if her time with the Red girl had been a never ending cycle of apologies. Wren had never let that string of words escape though. Releasing them meant admitting that she regretted her decision to tell Maven in the first place. </p><p>            “It’s a girl?” Iris asked with a raised brow. Chuckling to herself, she crossed one leg over the other and glanced at Maven with a smile like a panther observing injured prey. “What are you going to do with an innocent little girl?”</p><p>            Maven’s lips twisted, and Wren hoped he was warring just like she was. Some twisted part of him loved Mare Barrow, Wren knew that. She’d witnessed strange episodes of it. And yet, there was something burning in his gaze, a larger fire that was swallowing him whole. It threatened to explode out of him at the worst times, and now looked like it might be one of those times. </p><p>            “Sentinel Gliacon.” The man standing watch stepped forward from his position at the doors, his armor gleaming in the light of the lamp on the table. Maven paced behind the desk, and slowly rested his fists on the polished wood. His cheek twitched, and Wren saw and felt the fire consume Maven completely. It was a terrifying sight. His shoulders rolled back and he seemed to turn into another man entirely. When he looked up this time, there was a bitter chill to his voice that made her shiver. “Bring me the baby.”</p><p>            The guard nodded imperceptibly and went to leave. Wren’s mind finally caught up with what was happening after his first step, and she leapt in front to stop him, holding her hands up until they almost brushed the chest plate of the man’s armor. He rose above her like a tree, and she could feel her legs shaking underneath her as she said, “you can’t separate them… she needs her mother.”</p><p>            “She won’t need much of anything where she is going.” Maven murmured before waving his hand in a silent order for Gliacon to continue. Cold hands grabbed Wren’s shoulders and moved her to the side as if she weighed nothing. She flipped around though, panic turning her stomach into a churning sea. She had thought Maven would at least let Mare nurse her daughter, maybe even keep her for the night. Not rip them apart the moment she was born. Each step the Sentinel took felt like a bird pecking at her temple.</p><p>            <em>Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. </em></p><p>
  <em>            You are going to let that baby die. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            You are no healer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            Healers are supposed to save lives.</em>
</p><p>            “You can’t.” Wren breathed in horror before flipping around to face her king. Maven’s gaze was anything but understanding though. He slowly sank into the worn chair he had been occupying lately, his long fingers trailing along the top of the desk as he did so. It didn’t suit him with his clean pressed shirt and polished boots. He’d been awake the whole time from what Wren could tell. He wore his exhaustion poorly on his face. Steepling his fingers in front of him, he tilted his head to the side when he caught her eye.</p><p>            “Have you grown attached, Lady Skonos?”</p><p>            Wren tensed against the accusation, but she had no rebuttal. It was true. When she’d first felt that little cluster of cells in Mare Barrow expanding and changing, she had been shocked and terrified. She knew Maven spent time with Mare, but she also knew it couldn’t be his. He was too careful, too calculating. There was only one other option that Wren could think of, and it had almost crippled her. But as it slowly grew, something in her had changed.</p><p>            Maven laughed mirthlessly at her silence before reaching forward to shift some of the papers in their neat piles on his desk. Smiling at her then, he said, “Mare Barrow and I had a deal. I would not harm her son. She should have asked you to tell her the sex before she made that deal.”</p><p>            “You cheated her on the matter of her child’s life?” Anabel’s words were like ice as she stepped forward, near silent on the carpet.</p><p>            Maven frowned in her direction.  “Don’t you lecture me as if you care about this child.”</p><p>            Armor clanked in the hallway and every eye in the room turned to the Sentinel panting there. Placing a fist to his chest, Gliacon blinked rapidly through the visor of his helmet and said, “Your Majesty, the prisoner is gone.”</p><p>            “<em>What?!” </em>The word was half shout-half choked realization as Maven leapt to his feet. “What do you mean she's gone?”</p><p>            “She’s not in the rooms. There is blood all over the sheets and the floor, but she is gone. I’m sorry—”</p><p>            “Don’t apologize you idiot.” Maven sneered as he rushed from behind the desk and grabbed Wren’s arm in a grip that made her gasp in pain as he dragged her toward the doors. “Find her! She just gave birth, she could not have gotten far!”</p><p>            Anabel stiffly watched the scene, before prying Maven’s fingers off Wren’s arm. Turning to the Sentinel, she ordered, “Have your men search the grounds. My servants know the passages in the walls better than anyone. They will look for her there.”</p><p>            The Sentinel glanced to Maven as if awaiting further instruction, but his king was slowly narrowing his eyes in Anabel’s direction. Wren forced her muscles still, but her heart still beat a rapid staccato in her chest as she watched a former queen and newly minted king square off. She had left Barrow alone, had let Maven’s prize slip away. He would punish her dearly for it if he lost Barrow. He’d practically killed the men within the Treasury when he realized Mare wasn’t with them.   </p><p>            Anabel dipped her head slightly, dropping her eyes. As soon as she relinquished her stance, Maven straightened up. Without another word, he swept across the room to grab his coat and took the Sentinel as he left. Wren exhaled slowly and almost sank into the chair next to her. Her lungs were burning from holding her breath so long while Maven decided her fate. He certainly would't forget this was her fault, but she may live for the next hour until they found Barrow. Anabel’s grip tightened on her arm though as she hauled her close and whispered quickly in her ear, “Take nothing with you. There is a transport awaiting you a mile outside of the estate grounds.”</p><p>            Blinking stupidly at the older woman, Wren whispered, “But—Mare is in grave danger. If she is still bleeding then she could bleed out. I have to—”</p><p>            “You have done your part.” Anabel interrupted her, as she hauled her towards the second door out of the library. Wren knew it led to a back passage she could take to a set of stairs and then a garden. She had done her fair share of exploring when they first arrived, just like she had seen Barrow doing.</p><p>             “The transport driver has strict instructions to take you to the nearest airfield without stopping. From there you will take an airship to the Rift.”</p><p>            “The Rift?” Wren gasped as she stumbled over the doorway. She spun to face the former queen who she had heard so much about as a child. Standing over Wren, Anabel’s shoulders slowly rolled back, and a strange transformation came over her as her lips pulled into a tight line. She regressed in age before the young healers eyes, the years simply falling off of her like a cloak she shed. At the end of it all, her eyes glinted dangerously in the low light of the room.</p><p>            “Go. Speak to no one. If you are caught… I will not save you.”</p><p>            A light laugh sounded in the room, and both woman turned to the third who had been forgotten in the chaos. Iris tipped her head to both of them, and slowly set her book down on a little table.</p><p>            “He was a fool to believe you might chose him over your favorite.” Rising from her chair, Iris sighed and gathered the edges of her velvet blue robe to cross to the doorway Maven had rushed through moments ago. Pausing and looking over her shoulder, she smirked and said, “my congratulations to Tiberias. I’m sure you will pass on my sentiments when you see him again.”</p><p>            With that, she vanished into the shadows of the hallway, her heels clicking lightly on the floor until even that sound disappeared. In that silence, Wren heard the Sentinels as they moved through the halls, searching, and shouting instructions to lock down the estate. Her eyes widened as she turned to Anabel and asked, “what will you do?”</p><p>            “Unfortunately, Barrow has decided to make my life difficult.” Reaching to close the door, Anabel frowned at whatever thought crossed her mind before laughing softly to herself. “And yet she had given us the perfect cover.”</p><p>            The door snapped closed in Wren’s face and she stood dumbfound staring at the wood for a few heartbeats before returning to her senses. Spinning in a flurry of skirts, she raced for the stairs, Anabel’s instructions replaying like a broken record over and over again in her head. Alongside them, she asked the old gods to let them find Mare Barrow quickly, before she bled out.</p><p> </p><p>(//////)</p><p> </p><p>            I stumbled into another wall, and the stone of the passage scrapped against my skin where my nightgown had fallen. My bare feet were ice cold, and I could almost see my breath in front of me as I stumbled blindly in a hopeful direction. I was truly lost. Which I supposed was good, because that meant they wouldn’t find me. It bought me time.</p><p>            <em>Another step</em>, I told myself. The cold began to seep into my arm where it was pressed into the wall when I remained stuck to it, my very bones aching. When it looked like I wouldn’t be able to move a single step, I went over the list I had been repeating until it was like a song in my head.</p><p>
  <em>            You are Mare Barrow. You survived the Stilts. You survived the Silver Court. You survived Maven in Harbor Bay. You survived months in the wildness. You survived being his prisoner. You survived childbirth. You will survive this.</em>
</p><p>            Forcing my other foot forward another step, I felt my leg give out from underneath me. Crying out, I spun to put my back to the wall as I collapsed. In my arms, my daughter began to cry again. I’d tried to wrap her in the warmest blanket I could find, and yet the cold of these passage was worse than I thought. But it might have been the blood I had lost, and was still losing. I’d smeared it over the floor before I left, trying to keep them from finding a trail that would lead them to me.</p><p>            “Shh,” I urge as my head falls back to rest against the stone. “Don’t cry, I’m here.” She’s still so warm in my arms, a tiny sun I’m carrying with me for warmth. She has to stop crying though. These walls may be stone, but I don’t know how thin they are. If someone hears her on the other side they will find us.</p><p>            “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here. He’s not going to touch you. I won’t let him touch you.” I whisper to her, letting my head loll forward until I can see her even though the gloom of the tunnel. Her face is scrunched up as she hiccups and mewls in displeasure. I have no name for her, and my stomach clenches at that fact. I should have thought up a name for a girl just in case. She deserves to have one, just so that I can have something to call her and remember her by if I fail. </p><p>            “I’m so sorry I thought you were a boy all this time.” I whisper to her as I shift my hand to cradle her head better and begin rubbing my thumb in circles on her back of her skull. She slowly calms, and earns a delighted laugh from me for her efforts. Still, her face swims in my vision, warning me that perhaps the cold and my blood loss is worse than I thought. I can’t be bothered though. Reaching out with my other shaking hand, I brush the backs of my fingers along her downy cheek, simply marveling at her. She scrunches up her face at my touch in response, and in the dim light, I take in her features as best I can. She has my mother’s cheekbones, and those are definitely my ears. Gisa’s nose is the perfect size and shape for her face, and those lips… a perfect mix of mine and Cal’s. Those lashes are her father’s, they’re too long and thick to be mine after all. Even through the dry crust of blood on her face, I can see that she shares my coloring. She such an interesting mix of so many people that I love. </p><p>            Footsteps reverberate off the walls around me, and I drop my head to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry.” I whisper to her, to myself, to anyone who might be listening. A tiny hand brushes against my jaw and then my chin, and I reach up to enclose her hand with mine. “I tried darling, I tried.”</p><p>            I hope he makes it quick, that he takes her from the world faster than I brought her into it. I hope I live long enough to slit his throat for it. <em>I’ll kill him myself, whatever he does to you, I will do to him a hundred times over. </em>“With heaven as my witness darling.” I breathe to her, making her eyelash flutter when she closes her eyes again.</p><p>            The pale light from a lantern passes over me and a quiet sigh of relief makes me look up and squint. Attached to the beacon, is the servant who had gripped my hand and urged me through to the end. She drop to a crouch before me, whispering loud enough that I hear the relief coating every syllable., “Miss Barrow, thank goodness. You were so still, I thought you were dead.”</p><p>            Her head whips around and she hisses something at whoever is behind her. Footsteps retreat, and I clutch my daughter closer to my chest. Maybe I can hold her tight enough that my body and simply absorbs her again, so I can keep her safe.</p><p>            “Hold on, Miss Barrow, when Lady Anabel arrives we'll go. There is a healer waiting for us at the airfield.”</p><p><em>             Airfield? </em>My mind sluggishly turns the word over. Why an airfield? Am I being moved again? Are they taking her from me to separate us so Cal has to pick who he goes after? If it comes to that, I hope he goes after her, that he chooses our daughter and not my guilt ridden corpse. More footsteps sound, and a disgruntled exhale is preceded by another voice.</p><p>             “By my colors she’s half dead. Costa, pick her up. Genieva, take the baby.”</p><p>             “No!” I shout, and hold a hand out. A tiny spark of my lightning appears on my fingertips, fed by sheer will alone. I cannot sustain it though, and it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “My baby stays with me.” I whisper as I curl myself around her.</p><p>             “Ma’am,” a thickly accented male voice whispers, clearly addressing Anabel. She lets out another irritated sigh.</p><p>             “Grab them both, we wasted enough time just trying to find her. I have a few Sentinel’s loyal to House Lerolan waiting for us at the main gates. They will not be able to avoid suspicion much longer.” </p><p>             Thick, corded arms slide first under my knees and then around my shoulders. I gasp as they brush against the blood soaked nightgown before I can give a warning. Whoever this Costa is, doesn’t seem to care. “Easy,” he whispers to me before lifting me off the ground effortlessly. "Just hold on tight to that baby.”</p><p>             “Extinguish the light Genieva, it will give us away.” Anabel murmurs, and darkness immediately washes over us. Costa moves forward slowly, his arms surprisingly warm. I take every bit of warmth he gives me too, letting it wash over my tired muscles. I don’t know if this is a rescue, or simply another cage I am being carried to, but I have little say in the matter. Anabel may use me just as easily as Maven did. I don’t know what she could possibly want from me though. My baby is not Silver, she has no claim to a throne.</p><p>            “Stay alive Barrow,” Anabel’s voice echoes through the darkness of the tunnel. It’s the first time I’ve heard fear in her inflection. “If you die this is all for naught.”</p><p>             The gentle sway of Costa’s walk lulls me though, and my body is so heavy I fear I might drop to the ground and then sink down into it. Costa’s gentle, rumbling voice turns into the rumble of an engine, and the sway of his arms turns into the sway of a transport traveling at high speeds. I pick Genieva’s voice out of those rumbling voices around me the easiest. Her hands brush my hair back and then a blanket is wrapped around my shoulders as she whispers, “It’s all right, we’re almost off the estate grounds.”</p><p>              Going where? I want to ask, but my head jaw is so heavy and my eyes are still closed. I let myself sink into the darkness, even as I try to curl around my daughter as best I can to protect her from everyone around me. Beyond me, the world tilts as I finally succumb to the darkness that stalked me behind my eyelids. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Part 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL SHE BE A THIC 13,524 WORDS. I just couldn't stop with this chapter, but honestly that is for the best given this is the final part of the main story line. (((: PS: I love writing with music and the song for this final part was: Where's My Love by SYML (if you want the tone and mood I was going for) </p>
<p>Happy Reading (((:</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part 6</strong>
</p>
<p>            The dull whine of airship engines sits on the edge of my perception, an unwelcoming reminder, and a bittersweet relief. The halls of the estate are gone, but they have been replaced with something far worse. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel they’re crusted shut with sweat, and salt. I am forced to take inventory of my surroundings with my other senses. The roar of the engines makes it difficult to hear whispers, or voices at normal volume though. With no way to tell if I am alone, I try to take stock of my body instead.</p>
<p>            My mind is sluggish, but I can still sense the pain on the edges of my nerves. The grating I’m lying on digs into my back, reminding me that I’m awake even if my mind is not completely aware of what is going on around me. The rough rub of a blanket on the bare skin of my arms tells me whoever my new jailor is, they do not have the resources Maven did. That could in my favor, or not. </p>
<p>           Still, as I slowly become more aware of my surroundings, I continue floating in and out of consciousness like a buoy bobbing in a harbor. It makes it difficult to keep track of my thoughts and maintain any of them. I don’t remember getting on an airship, let alone getting to an airfield. I don’t remember much about leaving the estate either, just that I was so cold, I’d gone numb to the pain my body was experiencing. I remember Anabel though, like a blaring red warning light.</p>
<p>            There’s no telling where she is taking me. She could have stolen me away from Maven for her own needs. With both Calore brothers chasing after her, she could have her pick of the litter to decide her fate. I doubt Maven will be merciful if she does strike a bargain with him. And Cal—I don’t know what he will do. Anabel might not even be on this airship though. She could have simply put me on one and sent me on my way while she went a different direction. She could be days or miles away from me, running to escape Maven with my baby and leaving me as bait.</p>
<p>           <em> She’s separated us.</em></p>
<p>            The thought hits me like sledgehammer to the chest. The pain of it is so visceral, I gasp for air. My eyes open, but my vision is cloudy. Pure panic and instinct drives me to roll onto my side, where something sharp digs into the inside of my elbow. I reach for the spot blindly, only to find a thin tubed taped there. I yank on it immediately, determined to free myself.</p>
<p>            “Don’t do that Miss Barrow.” A quiet voice proceeds a set of hands that try to roll me back onto my back unsuccessfully.</p>
<p>            I grunt, my throat too dry and bursting with emotion for me to form words. </p>
<p>         <em>    She took my baby, and she separated us. I will never see her again</em>.</p>
<p>            The whine of the engine’s turns into a roar, and the hands holding me down snap away from me while someone screams in pain. Through the film clouding my vision, I can make out snapping tendrils of purple dancing along my arms. They seek ground desperately, and find it in the metal walls of the airship and the grating below me. Inside of me, something hums and pushes up from the deep well it took shelter in these past few months. It is enough to bring tears to my eyes. My lightening is weak, but it is still potent. I can sense it failing on the edge of my perception though. Like a weak engine, it is already sputtering and drawing on my reserves to sustain itself.</p>
<p>            I manage to rip the tube from my arm, spilling blood onto the blanket and down my arm. The pain is simply another tab in my mind though. The hole in my chest my daughter had filled for the few hours I had her swallows that pain for fuel. Like a gaping maw, it draws everything into it to sustain my fury and fear. My lightning draws on it too, feeding of those emotions curling into a rock in my stomach. The whole thing is a viscous cycle that will eventually wear itself out like a dog chasing its tail. </p>
<p>            A claxon of alarms on the edge of my perception alerts me of the damage I am doing. I don’t care though. I’ll bring this airship down with me.</p>
<p>            Pressing my hands down, I curl my fingers into the grating and push to my knees. My entire body shudders and I hesitate, an echo of the pain my daughter created as she tore her way out resounding inside of me. I drop a hand to my stomach, gritting my teeth against my traitorous body. What is a moment of pain compared to the years ahead of me that I will spend hunting Anabel Lerolan down until I get my hands on my child? This will be a blip on that scale.</p>
<p>            “Enough! Unless you want to kill every last one of us!”</p>
<p>            My head snaps up, my eyes trying desperately to focus and slowly clearing. My lightning sputters and finally dies, even as tiny sparks try to light on my fingertips. The well of power I draw on is empty though, and they bounce harmlessly off the grating.</p>
<p>            Tears burn tracks down my cheeks, and I squeeze my fingers into the metal until it bites and I feel nothing but that pain. The maw in my chest grows wider, threatening to inhale me. Gripping the mesh is the only thing that keeps me from being sucked into that tumultuous storm. Yet it still is there, a howling thing inside of me with claws that want to shred this metal monstrosity to pieces. I want to plummet to the ground again, and this time, I don’t want a Magnetron to catch me.</p>
<p>            In front of me, Anabel grips the doorway to the cockpit, her knuckles grey and her face drained of color. I can hear the pilots cursing while he tries to right the jet and correct for the damage I did. Anabel's arms are empty, and as I search the hold I am in, I see nothing but Genieva holding her hands to her chest and trying not to whimper as she checks them.</p>
<p>            “Where is she?” I finally croak. My voice is barely above a whisper, but it echoes in the silence of the hold. I curl one hand into a fist on my stomach, pressing it into the hollow space, seeking something that was there a short time ago but is now gone.</p>
<p>             Anabel’s frown creates a crease between her brows, but she doesn’t reply. Something inside of me breaks again, and my fresh tears cloud my vision as I drop my chin to my chest. I force an inhale, the sound ragged and sharp like glass breaking. It feels the same way as the air enters my lungs, tearing them to ribbons until I feel like I can’t breathe.</p>
<p>            “Give her to me.” I choke, as I sink back onto my haunches, unable to support my weight with my arms anymore. “I’ll do anything, just please… please give her back to me.” My entire body shrivels in on itself in the resulting silence, curling around that maw as it threatens to suck me down like a drain. If I fall down into that hole though, I know I will never come out again.</p>
<p>            “If you lay back down.”</p>
<p>            Anabel stands over me, and although she is barely taller than me when I stand with her, she seems so much larger in this moment. A mountain to climb when I don’t have the strength. Her face is impassive, without a crack for me to read what lies below the surface.</p>
<p>            “You are still weak, and will hurt yourself more unless you lie down.” She warns, sounding like the school teachers I used to sneer at in the Stilts. Unlike them, she has leverage over me. All they could hold against me was my reputation, and I didn’t care about that. They couldn’t save me from conscription, being able to read couldn’t do it, and neither could doing simple math. But Anabel, she could wipe from existance the hole in my chest that threatens to destroy me if she just gave me my daughter.</p>
<p>            “Let me see her.” I whisper, my body quivering as my core starts to struggle with my weight. “Then I’ll lay down.”</p>
<p>            She’s not stupid, and like any well trained Silver, she does not betray my daughter’s location with her eyes. She simply points to the blanket and hard pallet I’d been laying on moments ago. “I do not play games Miss Barrow. Lay down and I will give her to you.”</p>
<p>             I don’t trust her, but I have no other choice. I haven’t had a choice in so long. Will I ever have one again?</p>
<p>             Hands hesitantly rest on my shoulders, and when I stiffen, then pull away quickly. Behind me, I hear Genieva’s breathy inhale. A part of me shudders, knowing instantly that she might never trust me again. Still, she surprises me and sets her hands on my shoulders before guiding me back to the blankets. With quick practiced hands, she bandages my arm where a trail of blood is slowly turning into a river and starting to crust as it dries near my wrist. It’s a trickle compared to the blood I lost hours ago.</p>
<p>             “We had to give you fluids. The healer that was supposed to meet us didn’t make it to the airfield in time.” She explains the whole situation quietly to me. “We thought you were dead, and you just kept bleeding. It’s lucky that I’ve delivered a few babies and seen the situation before.”</p>
<p>              She gives me a tentative smile and adjusts the blanket around me. I watch her blankly trying to reach past the haze in my mind to my memories of last night. I can only recollect the agony of labor, the terror that Wren instilled in me when she announced my daughter, and the numbness I felt shortly after as I tried to escape. The blood is like a film coating everything. It’s there, but I had pushed the true thought of it to the back of my mind until it simply had become a part of everything without me realizing.</p>
<p>              “You held on though. And your daughter did too. Poor thing was so cold her little lips were turning blue.” She takes a rag to clean off the blood from my arm. Her touch is lighter than a feather. So that she can pull away quickly I realize. I have nothing left to hurt her with though.</p>
<p>             “Is she hurt?” I ask weakly, wondering if in my panic to save her, I did irreparable damage. I would never forgive myself if I did.  My stomach curls as I wait for Genieva to answer as she focuses on picking up the bag of fluids I had thrown to the side when I ripped the tube from my arm. </p>
<p>             Shaking her head when she finishes, she flashes me a smile. “Not at all. Hungry as a starved cub, but she’s been very patient so far. I’ve never seen a baby so quiet.”</p>
<p>             The bubble of fear in my chest pops, only to be replaced by a warmth that spreads all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. She’s her mother’s daughter, and her father’s. Cal suffered just as much as I did months ago and he hadn’t complained for a second. A silent soldiers, both of us had learned to take things in stride and simply push forward. </p>
<p>             “Cute thing though, stares at everyone and everything like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.” Genieva keeps talking, rambling on about my daughter. My lips pull into a smile, and I crane my neck, searching for Anabel. She said when I was laying down, but she’s disappeared.</p>
<p>             “Where is she?” I ask quietly, my eyes darting around the hold again as I search for a hidden compartment, or maybe an alcove of some sort.</p>
<p>             “Cockpit. It was the safest place for her while we waited to see if you pulled through.” Genieva pushes to her feet, and tugs the jacket hanging off her shoulders closed. “Lady Anabel is probably waking her up. She’s been asleep for the past few hours.”</p>
<p>              Sure enough, my daughters quiet coos proceed the former queen as she enters the hold. I struggle to lie still, and not leap to my feet and rush to her. Every sound she makes plucks at the cord tied around my heart that binds me to her. I reach my arms for her, my smile splitting my face and pulling at the scars on my neck. I need her right this second, or I fear I might crumble to dust. My hands shake, with muscle still weak and trying to recover from the trauma of blood loss, but I set my jaw against the tremors. Anabel sinks down to the ground without a grimace even though I’m certain women her age should not be sitting on metal floors anymore.</p>
<p>             “You understand what her birth means, yes? Who this child is?” Anabel’s voice is tempered, but there is something behind those words. I know what she wants to hear, Iris explained it clearly before the wedding. I told the truth when I explained she was not an heir though, and I still have no intention of my daughter ever sitting on a throne. The closest she will ever get to one is when she plays games in the future and makes one from sticks and stones.</p>
<p>            “Of course.” I state, channeling Mareena Titanos, and forcing steel into my voice. “She is my daughter.”</p>
<p>            Anabel's expression does not change, but a shadow does pass over her eyes. I know it well. I strain my fingers in response until they brush the blanket. It’s much softer than mine, and I at least have to thank Anabel for making sure she is comfortable. Still, I do not miss how Anabel pulls her away a fraction more. My stomach clenches, and my lightning hums on the edge of my senses, alerting me that it is at my disposal again. I let the sparks pass along my fingers as I stare down the queen who ruled for longer than Elara. “Give her to me.”</p>
<p>            “The future of this country—”</p>
<p>            “The future of this country is in equality. If she does not prove that, I do not know what else she can prove.” That voice does not belong to Mareena. It is not the Little Lightning Girl with her cold exterior and shattered psyche either. The person that speaks now is Mare Barrow through and through. She is a young woman who traded herself so her friends could escape. Who allowed a king to march her into a prison cell. Who carried a baby for nine months during captivity, and who birthed a daughter into a blood soaked world. Who is now prepared to fight tooth and nail to keep that innocent little girl away from the monsters that want to use her.</p>
<p>            Anabel’s lips twist at my words, and in that time, I manage to stretch my arm until my shoulder aches and curl a finger around the edge of the blanket. I pull it down just enough and spot a red cheek, and a tiny fist. My expression softens, and I exhale the breath I’d been holding.</p>
<p>            “You frighten me Miss Barrow. No one has frightened me in a long time.” Anabel Lerolan admits quietly, drawing my eyes. Her gaze doesn’t hold mine, and she instead glances down at my daughter. She shifts the hand supporting her head and whispers, “but you have far more integrity than I thought. You’ll be a good mother.”</p>
<p>            Something in me glows with the praise, and I drop my eyes back to my daughter who squirms in the blanket and manages to free one of her hands. Inhaling slowly, Anabel seems to release whatever is tying her to my child and slowly passes my hands to rest her on my chest. I close my hands on her back immediately, embracing her. It’s like a piece of the jagged, broken puzzle I am settles into place as she rests her head on my chest. Her hand kneads my shirt until she gets a fistful of it, and she opens her eyes with a sleepy blink.</p>
<p>            My inhale is coated in surprise and she releases a sound of displeasure at being moved too suddenly, before searching for my face and the source of the sound she heard. I drop a finger to trace her cheek and chin, marveling at the bronze of her eyes. They had been a honey gold the last time I saw her. Has it really only been one night? She’s still so small, but already I feel as if she’s changed so much.</p>
<p>            “They’re a strong trait I’m afraid.” Anabel murmurs, earning my attention. For the first time since I met her, she gives me a gentle smile as she taps the corner of her eye to prove her point.</p>
<p>            “I don’t mind.” I whisper more to my daughter than Anabel as I dip my chin to press a kiss on her hairline. She squirms at the contact and cups her tiny hand against my chin. I freeze, letting her tiny fingers explore my face. She’s so gentle and uncertain. It makes my chest ache knowing that she will most likely face so many horrible things in the coming future that might harden her. I don't want that to happen to her though, I want her to remain this gentle for her whole life. I suppose every parent wants that for their child though. The chance for them to not be crushed and molded by the world and instead simply float through it, carried on the whispers of their happiness. </p>
<p>            “You’re safe darling.” I whisper to her, setting my hand on her hair and brushing my thumb along the dark, feathery hairs on her head. She is lovely, and now that I am far away from Maven I can bask in her presence. Her blood is red as the dawn, and I can see it in her tiny pink lips as they open in a perfect circle. She nuzzles her face into my chest, mouthing the shirt I’ve been changed into.</p>
<p>            Genieva’s hands appear near her, and I tighten my grip, glaring the older woman down, the beginnings of a snarl on my lips. She pulls her hands back, before whispering, “she’s trying to show you she’s hungry. I was going to show you how to feed her.”</p>
<p>            I glance between her and Anabel, worry creasing my brow. My daughter cries in response to my hesitation, the sound so pitiful and soft it hurts me.</p>
<p>            “No one will take her from you.” Anabel promises, her eyes hardening. “You have nothing to fear.”</p>
<p>            “Where are you taking us?” I finally manage to ask her. She blinks at the question, probably expecting something else. Anabel is not one to be put of balance easily, and she recovers quickly to my question.</p>
<p>            “Somewhere safe.”</p>
<p>            “Where.” I demand again, and earn a frown from her. I sense that while she respects me, I am obviously an annoyance and a pest. I suppose I’d rather be that though. It means she wont try to lock me up and contain me. </p>
<p>            “An airbase in Piedmont. I was given the official coordinates only after I had proof that you were alive.” She slowly pushes to her feet, and glances in the direction of the cockpit. “We should be arriving soon.”</p>
<p>            My heart skips a beat. An airbase? In Piedmont of all places? I know Norta has allies there, but does Anabel personally? I wrack my memory for something I read in Julian’s book to back up that claim. Nothing comes to mind though. Perhaps its an alliance she’s kept in secret as a last resort should she ever need it. </p>
<p>            She leaves before I can ask any other questions. When she disappears in the cockpit, I turn to Genieva, expecting answers. She has none to give though, and holds my gaze expertly. My daughter cries again, announcing her displeasure and impatience. Glancing down at her, I watch her nose scrunch just like my sister’s as she starts kneading my chest again.</p>
<p>            “Show me what to do.” I sigh, realizing I won’t get any answer until we land at this base. The tension dispels and Genieva nods gratefully. Whether or not it is because she would rather not tell me anything, or would rather I didn’t push her to tell me anything remains to be seen. But I have learned to be patient over the past few months and learn truths from people’s actions. Her agitation tells me she is nervous about where we are going. So, probably not the most friendly place for her. That could mean a number of things, but my hope is that it is at least friendly enough to Anabel that she can keep me and my daughter safe for a little longer. </p>
<p>           </p>
<p>            (/////////)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            By the time we land on the tarmac, I am strong enough to hold my own weight in one of the seats along the wall. The belts dig into my stomach, reminding me that the muscles down there are still tender. I grip my daughter tighter to my chest as the winds roars outside and tries to pry the outer shell off our airship. It’s an older model, obviously meant to be discrete. That only makes me nervous though, especially when an odd clicking began as soon as the landing gear engaged and the wires in the walls whined with the strain of landing. </p>
<p>            Anabel remains in her seat across from me even after we land, her knuckles turning white as she grips them. Her lips pale from her pursing them together, but she gives no other signs of her discomfort. She might as well be a stone pillar weathering a storm.</p>
<p>            When the engines finally cut, she unbuckles faster than me and Genieva, and urges the servant to stay seated before crossing the tiny hanger to drop the ramp. It grinds against it’s gears, and she stands ready at the top, her hands slowly tucking behind her back in a stance that I recognize as military. She squares her shoulders to the wave of heat and humidity that rushes up the ramp, and doesn’t even flinch when the ramp drops with a bang against the concrete. I cannot say I am so staunch in my resolve. I practically leap out of my skin when the ramp falls the final feet.  </p>
<p>            I unbuckle slowly, trying to remain quiet though as I push to my feet. My vision spots for a moment, but I grit me teeth and push through the wave of dizziness. Once the explosion of colored dots vanishes, I see the three soldiers at the bottom of the ramp, their guns trained up and their eyes hard.</p>
<p>            My stomach curls and I take a hesitant step back to avoid being seen. These people are obviously not friendly. I didn’t get a good enough look to tell if they are Silver or Red, but those guns look new. Not even the Scarlet Guard could get their hands on weapons that nice, even if they raided every supply plant in Norta.</p>
<p>            “Hands where we can see them.” A gruff, accented voice orders from the bottom of the ramp. Anabel doesn’t move though, she simply glares down at the speaker as if they are dirt under her shoe.</p>
<p>            That same voice speaks again, obviously irritated this time. “Hands where we can see them or we open fire.”</p>
<p>            “You wouldn’t want to do that. Mare Barrow is on board.” Anabel speaks calmly although a condescending note hangs at the back of every word. I have to admire her resolve. With three guns trained on me, lightning or not, I would not be as calm. She couldn’t be bothered by them though, as far as I can tell, she could simply be standing in a garden at Archeon speaking to one of the ladies of court who spoke out of turn.</p>
<p>            The gun safeties click off and I drop back into my seat to make myself as small as possible while curling my body around my daughter. I’ll take whatever bullets ricochet, so long as she doesn’t have to feel one of them. She squirms at being squished so close to me, and opens her mouth to announce her discomfort. Genieva grips my arm in response, her breathing accelerating as she watches the scene unfold as well.</p>
<p>            “Who gave you authorization codes to land?”</p>
<p>            “If you let us disembark and bring a nurse for Barrow, I will tell you.” Anabel doesn’t move, but her hands tighten around her wrists. It’s the only sign she is starting to loss her resolve. “She lost a lot of blood and we had no healer for her.”</p>
<p>            “Last time, who gave you authorization to land?”</p>
<p>            Anabel stands quietly, the muscles in the backs of her shoulders tensing at every passing second of silence. A huff from below tells me she’s overstayed her welcome.</p>
<p>            I leap to my feet, pushing to her side and holding a hand out in hopes of stopping the order to fire. I won’t risk my daughter on the matter of pride.</p>
<p>            “Stop,” I order, but my voice breaks on the word, betraying my fear. All three soldiers drop their guns in surprise though. The one in the center stares up at me, blinking like he could wipe the image of me away. The other two jump back like they’ve seen a ghost. I’m sure the vision isn’t far off from the truth. I had caught a glimpse of myself an hour ago in the dull reflection of the metal inside the airship and immediately grimaced at the sight. My time in captivity was not kind to me. My cheeks have sunken and my eyes have gone duller. The grey in my hair has almost crept to the base of my skull. I’ve lost color in my skin, and look more like a walking corpse than a human being. There is no trace of Mareena or the Little Lightning Girl in me anymore.</p>
<p>           One of the soldiers spins on his heel and sprints away from the bottom of the ramp, almost slipping in a puddle of oil as he goes. I watch him jump into the driver’s seat of a transport before tearing away in it.</p>
<p>           “I was hoping to keep you in my back pocket a little longer.” Anabel murmurs, her eyes landing on me and almost burning me to a crisp. I raise my chin at her in response, but don’t answer. I have no words for her. I’ve been used enough in the past few months.</p>
<p>           The remaining two soldiers climb the ramp into the airship, their guns still ready to fire, but they keep them by their sides. With practiced eyes and formation, they search the airship. When they finish their sweep, I hear the screech of tires on the asphalt. Anabel’s eyes dart to the sunlit space, but whatever she sees only makes her pale further and turn back to face the remaining two soldiers.</p>
<p>           Two more sets of boots on the ramp announce another solider and a young woman dressed in fatigues. She breaks away toward me, while the third soldier helps herd Anabel and Genieva away from me. The pilot is almost dragged from the cockpit, spitting in a Harbor Bay accent that he has to finish powering down.</p>
<p>           I take a hesitant step toward the three of them, a sudden weight in my chest that they are in far more danger than I am. “Wait,” I whisper, but the woman grabs my arm and pulls me away.</p>
<p>           “It’s all right Miss Barrow, I’m taking you to the medical building.”</p>
<p>            A soldier grabs Genieva’s arm, and she goes dangerous still, her eyes locking with the man’s as he pulls her toward the ramp. The pilot goes after her, still grumbling the whole time. Anabel remains though, her eyes hard as she stares down the man who must have spoken to her from the bottom of the ramp. They remain in a stand off before he relents and step out of the way so she can walk on her own. Raising her chin, she begins her own march.</p>
<p>            “Wait,” I repeat and reach for her arm. I close my fingers around her elbow, suddenly terrified of being separated from her. She brought me this far, what if I’m put on another airship or these people try to separate me from my daughter?</p>
<p>            “You have nothing to worry about,” Anabel’s voice softens when she reads the fear in my eyes. I grip her arm tighter in response, and get a small smile from her in return. “You are among friends now.”</p>
<p>             My eyes widen and I drop her arm to spin and look at the young woman again. Sure enough, attached to her waist is a simple red sash with a golden sun stamped on the edge. She’s dressed in old, faded fatigues I recognize from my short time on Tuck. Something in me that had been coiling tighter and tighter over the past vew months unwinds, and relief rushes through me like water in a river dry for too many years. I soak every drop of it up, the sensation dizzying. </p>
<p>            “How—” I being, but when I look up, Anabel is already halfway down the ramp and stepping into the binding sunlight. It is only when I see her climb into the transport waiting at the bottom, completely alone and willing to face the choice she made that I realize what she has done. She is no ally of the Scarlet Guard, but she brought me to them, and has now willingly handed herself over to them. My heart pounds as I take an unsteady step in her direction, suddenly wanting to protect her from what is to come. They will not be kind to her, and she does not deserve that.</p>
<p>           “Where are they taking them?” I ask breathlessly. The nurse takes my arm gingerly and guides me toward the bottom of the ramp while the transport with Anabel pulls away, speeding toward a set of grey and white buildings. The sun burns my eyes as soon as I immersed in it. I squint them shut, but try to keep my head in the direction they take her. If there is anything I learned during my first visit to a Guard stronghold, it is to not let a Silver out of my sight. I doubt there is a secret underground block like on Tuck, but I do not plan on losing Anabel like I did Cal.</p>
<p>          “You don’t need to worry about that.” The nurse whispers as she pulls me in the direction of another transport. Under my bare feet, the tarmac burns the soft skin of soles. But it’s the best feeling I’ve had in a long time. I glance down at my daughter, but her face is scrunched against the sunlight, and she keeps reach up with a fist to rub at her cheek. I’d forgotten that she’d been born in darkness, and had flown during the darkness of the morning. This is her first experience with the sun. A weak laugh escapes me as she pries open her eyes when I shade her head with mine. “It’s all right. You’ll get used to it.” I tease her, when her nose stays scrunched as she stretched a hand for the sunlight just beyond my shadow. </p>
<p>         She has so many more firsts ahead of her, and every last one terrifies and excites me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            (/////////)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            I quickly memorize the layout of this airfield. It’s much bigger than Tuck, and there are far more people here than I could have imagined. I watch soldiers drill and civilians stroll together as we drive through what appears to be the center of the base. There is so much life around us as we go, that for a moment I wonder if somewhere along the way I missed the end of the war against Maven. Has it all ended in the hours I was in the air? Is it pathetic that I hope that is the truth? </p>
<p>            As we go, the nurse waves to a few people, and they stop to stare at us, some of them turning to whisper when they see me.</p>
<p>            Realization is a cold blanket around my shoulders. Kilorn told Maven during the Archeon siege that he would not kill the mother of his child. If his rumors poisoned my best friend’s understanding, I’m sure it cemented everyone else’s opinions about me. Perhaps I am not among friends like Anabel thought. If they believe the rumor, a soldier might think it in the best interests of everyone to take my daughter and use her for leverage against Maven. They’d be baiting the wrong brother though. I hug my daughter closer in response, and eye the sides of the road warily. I will not be surprised by anyone, not anymore.</p>
<p>            The medical block, as the nurse calls it, is a pretty white building with ivy growing up the sides and flowers planted everywhere, saturating the air with the smell of sweet things. I try to hold my breath as I pass the planters, but my daughter sneezes multiple times as we pass them. I can’t fault her that, I don’t like the smell either. There is too much gentleness here, it’s untouched compared to where I’ve come from. Unease pools in my stomach as the nurse leads me down countless identical halls at the thought. How has this place remained so spotless with soldiers on it? What has this unit of the Guard done to maintain its tranquility? </p>
<p>            When the nurse finally stops, it’s before an aged white door. She opens it with a reassuring smile, ignoring the creak of the hinges as she waves me inside when I hesitate on the threshold. I ignore the summons and scan the room first, searching for a cell. It is no such thing. Instead of a hard cot, there is a cleanly made bed with white sheets that shine in the noon sunshine. The window next to the bed is open to a small garden and little bubbling fountain. I can even hear the calls of a few birds as they swoop through the garden. There are a few chairs and a small worn table, a sink and a counter with a small bag on it, but not cell bars, no chains or manacles.</p>
<p>            I edge into the room, and she opens a small closet I didn’t spot. I almost dart back into the hallway, but she comes out with a clean white gown and hangs it over her arm before gesturing to another door.</p>
<p>            “I’m sure you’d like to clean up.”</p>
<p>            It’s not a question. I glance down at my clothes, rumpled and dirty from travel. There is still blood on the inside of my arm where I ripped the needle out of my arm. I’m sure I don’t exactly smell all that nice either. I don’t bother trying to distinguish that smell though, I can guess that I smell like death and blood. After all, I certainly look the part. </p>
<p>            With a tiny nod, I head for the door she points me to. She follows me, and my skin prickles at her closeness. She hangs the gown by door and I take a hesitant step back to murmur, “I can clean myself.”</p>
<p>            She stops dead and her eyes widen at my tone. It’s half warning, half order. A pang of regret stabs my chest but I swallow the emotion. I don’t trust anyone but myself right now.</p>
<p>            “Of course. I was just going to take her for a little bit.” She glances down at my daughter with a smile and holds her hands out, expecting me to just lay her in the arms of a stranger. I backpedal immediately, hugging her closer to my chest until I smack my lower back against the sink. Holding a hand out when the nurse takes a step closer with a furrowed brow, I growl dangerously at her.</p>
<p>            “She doesn’t leave my side.”</p>
<p>            Her expression melts, and pity replaces the concern. Dropping her hands to her sides, she dips her head in a tiny nod. “I’m sure you’ve been through quite a bit together, but there are tests and protocols—”</p>
<p>            “I don’t care. She stays with me.” I scan the room for an exit. I’m an animal desperately trying to escape. The window is open and we’re on the first story. I could jump onto the bed and roll out into the garden. From there I could try and run. Where would I go once I’m out of this room though? This base is full of soldiers who will chase me down and drag me back. They may rip my baby from my arms if that happens.</p>
<p>            My chest caves in, collapsing in on itself when I recognize how trapped I am once again. In my distraction, the nurse took two small steps closer to me. Her hands gently rest on my arms, and I feel a wave of cool relief from the touch. I almost pull away, but she holds me steady with a gentle smile.</p>
<p>            “It’s all right. You’re both perfectly safe here. I’ll only take her for a second to take her weight and measurements. I’ll bring her back right after.” Another cooling wave that washes away the ache in my arms and legs. A healer, she’s a healer, but she’s Red. A New Blood. The tension in my shoulders releases, and I exhale the breath I’d been holding.</p>
<p>            “I’ll even wait to take her vitals until she’s back with you. Would that be okay?” She drops a hand to my daughter’s head and says, “She’s very beautiful, and I’m sure you don’t want any surprises with her.”</p>
<p>            “Just her weight and measurements?” I croak, my throat raw with fear and another emotion I can’t name. With a nod, she slides her hands underneath my loosening ones to lift my baby from my arms. Immediately, my daughter cries, stretching her hands for me. I reach a hand for her, but the nurse pulls back another step.</p>
<p>            “It won’t be more than a few minutes. I’ll be back with her before you’re even done.” She smiles down at my daughter and coos to her for a second before turning that lovely grin on me. It reminds me of the smile Gisa used to give before I brought this horrible mess down on us. “You can leave those clothes on the floor in there, and change into the gown when you're done.”</p>
<p>            She departs the room, leaving me standing by the sink, my breathing erratic. I can hear my daughter’s cries as she is taken down the hallway like a beacon calling to me. Numbness stretches from my chest, pushing toward my fingertips and when I look down, my lightning dances between my fingers. I shake them, dispelling the sparks before rubbing hands up and down my arms. The room is at once too small and too large, too hot and too cold. I recognize the beginnings of the same anxiety I experienced when Wren ordered Kitten to get Maven. I am not in Archeon with the Court, but there are still snakes among the Scarlet Guard. The Colonel's red eye flashes through my mind, reminding me that while he and I now have a rough understanding of each other, he is not a kind man. </p>
<p>            A few minutes. It’s just a few minutes and she’ll be back in my arms.</p>
<p>            I force myself to shower, grimacing at the state of my body in the full length mirror when I undress. If my family sees me, will they recognize me? I don’t even recognize the woman looking back at me. She’s at once familiar, and a stranger. I trace the edges of the my scars on the sides of my ribs, and drop my fingers to the skin around my belly that is still stretched and swollen. It makes me look older in a way. Even though I thought it would disappear after I had my baby, I am not completely surprised it did not. I almost like the reminder. Without my daughter here with me, I could pretend it never happened. That pouch between my hips does not let me forget though. </p>
<p>            The water is blissfully warm, and I spend more time under it than I want, releasing tension in aching muscles. It’s not until I’ve washed my hair twice and scrubbed my body raw that I sink into a crouch and sob. I haven’t cried in so long, not since I learned of my daughter’s existence. I cry for a very similar reason now. Emotions threaten to drown me like a raging sea. Fear for her future, and for my own wraps it’s hand around my throat and squeezes until my sobs become choked gasps. I had never planned to be a mother. I’d refused to bring a child into a world where it would instantly be threatened. A part of me also knew I was too selfish to be a mother. I’d always looked out for myself, made sure I was taken care of before anyone else. Look where that got me though. I’d pushed myself into Cal’s arms and his bed and put us in this position. I had known he was developing feelings and I used that against him to get something out of him. I don’t know if I can handle taking care of something so easily breakable as a baby knowing that truth about myself.</p>
<p>            Catching my head in my hand, I chase down the nebula of feelings inside of me. Somewhere buried underneath the fear and self-loathing, there is a bubble of light. I latch onto the way I’d felt on the tarmac when my daughter experienced sunlight for the first time, and the way she looked up at me as I fed her the first time. No one had ever <em>needed </em>me, or looked at me with such bright eyes. That bubble of light in my chest grows as I think about her eyelids fluttering while she sleeps, and the way her cheeks went rosy pink when I nuzzled her gently as I inhaled and memorized the way she smelled. That light burns when I remember the oath I had sworn to her in a damp tunnel when I realized she might be taken from me forever. While I am scared of my new responsibility, there is a deeper, stronger feeling of duty toward my baby. </p>
<p>            I am at once ready, and not ready for her. For what she means for my life and… for Cal’s. While I have been alone with this future for so long, I am no longer alone in this. He is tied to her as much as I am. I know him too. He will stop at nothing to keep her safe. The thought makes me rise, and turn the water off. We have so much to talk about when I see him again. I can’t even sort through the list in my head without losing track of parts.</p>
<p>            When I finally step out into the room, I’m instantly assaulted by a body. I gasp and lightning flies to my fingertips before I recognize the flash of red hair burrowing under my chin. My entire body melts and the sparks dispel before I throw my arms around my sister. Her shoulder’s shake softly, and I drop my forehead to her shoulder to keep from crying again. Another body presses to my side, and then another until I am enveloped in my family. My legs finally give out under me, and Gisa grunts before dropping with me. My brothers almost smoother me, but I feel someone’s tears on top of my head before I recognize my mother’s hand running along my wet hair as she murmurs sweet nothings to me.</p>
<p>            When Gisa peel away, her face is splotchy and she wipes her eyes in the most ungraceful movement I’ve ever seen her commit. Her face breaks into a watery smile before she whispers, “We all practically ran to get here when they told us you were here.”</p>
<p>            My mother’s hands grab my face and pulls me to face her. Her thumbs rub along my cheeks and the tears streaming down her cheeks break my heart. I cup her hands with my own and she laughs weakly. Pulling me close to her, so she can cradle me to her chest she whispers, “When they didn’t bring you back from Archeon… we thought you were lost forever.”</p>
<p>            I wrap an arm around her waist and whisper, “I thought I was.”</p>
<p>            Bree clears his throat, and I glance up to see him struggling to wipe his eyes, the source of the tears I felt apparently. My lips curl up involuntarily, only for them to fall when he speaks.</p>
<p>            “We’re going after that bastard for what he did to you. And we already found someone for the baby in case you don’t want—”</p>
<p>            “No!” I say quickly, ripping myself from my mother’s arms before pushing to my feet. Something in my stomach pulls at the quick movement and I grunt in pain before wrapping an arm around my middle. The pain is another ache I easily ignore. I should have never let that nurse take her from me. She could already be in the arms of the family my own found for her. I’ll rip her out of whose ever arms she was put in, and I’ll run until no one can take her from me again.</p>
<p>            Mom’s hands are immediately around my shoulder’s supporting me as I crane my neck to search the room. The nurse isn’t here, and my baby isn’t either. “Where is she?” I demand, pulling away from my mother and stumbling for the door when no one answers. I catch myself on the door frame and search the hallway. It stretches in both direction and then bends away. The building is shaped like a giant circle around the little garden outside my window and I weigh my chances of going in one direction over the other. My daughter’s cries might have come from the left, so she might be there. I take a step out, but a worn hand grabs my elbow and holds me back.</p>
<p>            I flip around to shock whichever of my brother’s has tried to stop me, but freeze as I meet my father’s weary gaze. His grip is strong, and he stands to almost his full height while leaning on a cane. He has spent so many years in his chair that I had forgotten how tall he really was. My breath catches in my throat, and he ignores the sound, mercifully.</p>
<p>            “You’re not going anywhere. Nurse told us you had a rough labor and that you need to lie down.” He gruffly orders with the same frown I remember him delivering every reprimand with when I was younger. It is like getting a small part of my childhood back. </p>
<p>            I don’t even get the chance to argue though. He takes a slow step forward to slide his hand from my elbow to my waist, and with a gentle nudge he herds me back into the room. When I break his gaze to glance around the room, it’s to see the shock on every other face in my family. My mother's hand clutches her throat as if she is about to release a strangled sound and that is the only thing holding it back. Gisa huddles close, worry clouding her gaze as she looks me over. My brothers look positively murderous, and although I'm familiar with the look on Bree's face I’ve never seen anything like it on Tramy's. He’s always been so soft and sweet that it actually sends a rush of fear through me when he sneers in the direction of the wall to avoid my gaze.</p>
<p>            I tense before them all, realizing belatedly that they believe the rumor. Why did I think they would believe anything else? It was such an easy thing to believe. My reaction terrified them that perhaps Maven had broken something in me. </p>
<p>            “She’s not Maven’s.” His name is an ice pick in my throat, ripping at the lining and exposing sensitive skin. My face flushes under everyone’s scrutiny, and I grasp at the edge of my gown to anchor myself and to do something with my hands.</p>
<p>            Gisa has always been so much smarter than everyone else, and for that reason, she is the first to understand. Her inhale is a gasp of surprise as she steps forward to take one of my hands. Bree’s brows scrunch together and he seems to be working the hardest to put it together. My mother is next though, and she leaps forward to ask, “when? He never expressed—” </p>
<p>            “I… I didn’t know until I was in Archeon.” I try to explain as gently as possible. But Bree finally figures it out and shouts over me, missing my statement completely.</p>
<p>            “That damn Silver bastard. He sat under our roof and made us promises knowing what he did to you!” Grabbing Tramy by the arm he starts to drag him to the door. “Come on,” he says, even though my other brother drags his feet, “we’ve got a silver prince to string up.”</p>
<p>            “You won’t be stringing up anything.” My father’s voice is quiet thunder. Everyone turns to him as he sinks into one of the chairs with a grimace. I almost sign in relief. He’ll be a voice of reason while I am too tired to explain my feelings and everything that’s happened.</p>
<p>            Setting his cane to the side, he gestures out the window and says, “they took him in at the same time we were walking in here. I watched them. The Colonel was with them while they did it. My guess is that he’s in more trouble with the brass of this place than he’ll ever be with you two meatheads.”</p>
<p>            My stomach sinks to my feet, and I wobble as the room spins around me. Gisa catches my arm, and guiding me to the bed, she whispers, “sit down, you’ve been on your feet too much already.”</p>
<p>            I’m too absorbed in my own thoughts to fight her. They can’t take Cal from me, I need him right now. Our daughter needs the protection he can offer. I can’t do this alone. “Why did they take him?”</p>
<p>           “Because he gave his grandmother the coordinates of this place and the clearance codes to land.” I almost jump off the bed after Gisa helps me into it when I see Farley in the doorway. She looks tired and haggard, but I’ve never been so relieved to see her. I almost blurt out that she is the reason I stayed alive during the wedding siege, that it was her voice that pushed me to keep moving when I froze in panic. I refrain from admitting to that though. She gives me her own form of a smile and says, “You look awful Barrow.”</p>
<p>          “You don’t look much better.” I reason, and she shrugs before nodding down to the sling tied around her chest as if that is an answer to my statement. I almost didn’t see it during my first observation of her. The fabric practically matches the grey shirt she wears, camouflaging it unless someone did a double take like I just did. My heart leaps into my throat, at the same time that my face flushes. “What—when?”</p>
<p>          With a wink, she says, “Do the math, Barrow.”</p>
<p>
  <em>          Shade. </em>
</p>
<p>          My heart clenches painfully at the thought of my brother, but she steps into the room with the same bravo and confidence she has always had before saying, “you and I apparently have a lot to catch up on.” The baby tied to her chest coos and she smiles down at it before sinking into the other empty chair in the room.</p>
<p>          “Congratulations.” I say stupidly, blinking at her in surprise. I have so much else to say. Apologies want to rain from my lips first, apologies for Corros, for staling my brother from her and then shoving a horrible truth into her face when his body was still warm at our feet. She laughs though, and it’s a sound so wonderful I almost don’t believe it’s real. Mom smiles at her though and Gisa floats to her side with a smile all her own.</p>
<p>          “I’m glad Clara will have a cousin to grow up with. Military bases are no place for lonely children.” Farley’s eyes are bright like stars as she talks, but I can see the lurking shadows. She’s dealt with the loss of Shade as much as I have, and now stands in the middle of the same storm I do. His memory haunts her, but the grief does not choke her or drown her anymore. </p>
<p>         Our family has grown bigger by leaps and bounds and I missed it. My cheeks ache as I smile though. I couldn’t be more relieved that she has a part of Shade still with her. “I thought mine was a boy from the beginning,” I murmur earning a raised brow from her. “I was so certain that I’d already named him Shade.”</p>
<p>         The name rings like a gunshot in the room. My mother's eyes drop, and Gisa’s smile falls, while Dad reaches up to set a hand on my mom’s. Farley dips her head in understanding though. I knew, deep down, she would. </p>
<p>         “And have you picked a name for the girl you did have?”</p>
<p>          My chest constricts and I shake my head quickly. I hadn’t even bothered with a name. Any I had tested sounded wrong. She needed something special, something to match her already quiet personality. No Red name could pair with that.</p>
<p>          Gisa immediately announces into the silence, “you should name her after mom.”</p>
<p>          My mother reaches out to smack the back of her head, but my sister dodges the hit expertly, a coy smile tugging at her lips. I have to laugh at the spectacle and while the sound is rough on the edges, it’s the best feeling I’ve had in so long.</p>
<p>          </p>
<p>(////////)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>           It’s late when I hear a nurse’s voice down the hall speaking in a hushed whisper with someone. I glance up from my daughter who has finally fallen asleep in my arms, straining my ears to hear that other voice. This room had been full for hours today with my family, Farley, and eventually Kilorn who came screaming into the room like a comet with the biggest smile on his face. There is a very limited list of people left for me to see, and the one I hope is currently speaking with that nurse at the end of the hall is the only one from it that I want to see right now. </p>
<p>           My family left hours ago, my mom urging them out with orders for me to eat what the nurse brought me and to sleep as much as possible. Her eyes had lingered on my daughter even as she left, just as loath to have given her back to me as my sister when I let both of them hold her. Even my oafs of brothers had gotten turns, and I’d never seen Bree so nervous. He almost dropped her too, making me screech and almost leap from the bed to catch her and pull her from his arms. Farley had laughed at my fear, assuring me Bree was not so incompetent that he would harm my daughter.  </p>
<p>           Now, my heart pounds against my ribs, a fluttering bird trying to escape it’s cage. I shift to sit up as best I can, and crane my neck when the voices are replaced by a set of boots walking down the hall. My chest hitches when they slow and then stop just beyond the open doorway. The silence is excruciating, but I don’t dare to break it, or rush him. I’ve waited months, and all day, I can wait a few seconds longer.</p>
<p>          A pained exhale from outside the door grips my heart and squeezes. He’s just as terrified as I am, and rightfully so. I’ve had months to prepare for this, he’s had the few weeks since we last saw each other in Archeon, if he even understood my message when I gave it to him. His stomach is probably twisted as tightly as mine, and his heart is probably beating as hard as mine.</p>
<p>         “Pull it together.” He whispers to himself, and I stifle a laugh at the poor excuse for a pep talk.</p>
<p>         He steps into the doorway nonetheless, a shadow outline that I almost don’t recognize right away. For a moment, I fear that whatever I might feel for him is gone. That during my time with Maven I blurred out Cal’s face and replaced it with his brother’s. His sharp exhale startles me though, and I shift in the bed to sit higher.</p>
<p>         “Hi.” I try to smile to soften the monotony of my tone, only to realize the moonlight doesn’t quite reach my face and he can’t see my expression.</p>
<p>        “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice is barely louder than a whisper. I’ve never heard him speak so softly, or with so much uncertainty. He’s always been so assured, and to see him reduced to this hovering shadow terrifies me.</p>
<p>         We continue to stare at each other across the room, the distance between us seeming to stretch to the breaking point with each passing second. I want him to move and bridge that gap, but all he does is fidget and play with the frayed edges of his jacket. He's never been the one to make the decision or us though, he always hovers, waits for me to set the pace and the tone.</p>
<p>         A bar of light from the window flashes along his face when he shifts his weight and I get a heartbeat to adjust my perception of him. He looks tired, and older than he did when I saw him in Archeon. Like me, he has aged ten years in a few weeks. I suspect that pattern will continue in the coming weeks, months, and years. We’ll look old before our time. I don’t know if that would be bad though. I may not live to see true grey hairs sprout from my temples like my mother. The ones that creep up from the ends of my hair might be as close as I get.</p>
<p>         “I was already awake.” I finally reply before glancing down at my-<em>our</em> daughter who shifts and closes her fist around a piece of the gown I’m wearing. I couldn’t convince a nurse to give me fatigues like Farley wore. My mother had argued with me about it too, begging me to simply let them take care of me for a few days before I launched myself back into everything. “There are more important things now.” She had whispered to me while smiling down at her granddaughter.  </p>
<p>          “Ah.” He says and it is as if my words have given him the permission he sought because he steps completely into the room and edges toward the bed. He still looks frightened, although I’m not sure of what. I haven’t given an indication that I am angry with him. He did what he could with the cards he’d been dealt. I did the same. Life dealt a rotten hand but we had played the high stakes game and come up with a decent winnings. Perhaps even better than decent.</p>
<p>          “You can turn the light on if you want.” I nod to it on the side table, and he hesitates for a moment, his hand twitching by his side. Eventually, he turns the little dial and it clicks to life, the hum of electricity a welcome sound in the silence. The light casts dark shadows across his face, at the same time that it places him in full view for me.</p>
<p>         Someone cut his hair horribly. He had let it grow so long while we were at the Notch that I forgot he preferred the military cut he maintained while he was a prince. I had liked it longer though, so I could run my fingers through it. It’s patchy now, a mess of a cut that I’m sure he hasn’t bothered to fix. A faint shadow on his jaw also tells me he hasn’t shaved in a few days either. But all those things separate him from Maven, and I cannot ignore how that eases my fear.</p>
<p>          I used to see his brother’s face when I looked at him, that isn’t the case now. Now I see our daughter’s eyes aged by twenty one years, her lower lip that she got from him, and the long dark lashes she also inherited. I had forgotten how much I loved those features on his face, and how they are now so perfect on her. </p>
<p>         “Nanabel said you had a hard… everything.” He searches for the word with a grimace, his eyes revolving around the room as if to avoid mine. There is not much for him to see though. My family had tried to scrounge together what they could for our baby, but there is only so much a base with soldiers can offer. My sister’s hastily begun blanket rests in a pile of thread on the table, and Tramy’s jacket that he forgot still hangs from the back of a chair.</p>
<p>          “Nanabel?” I ask with a quirk of my lips. He finally turns his eyes to me, and laughs weakly at my question. Massaging the back of his neck, he looks back down to the floor.</p>
<p>          “My nickname for my grandmother.” When he glances up again, there is a hint of amusement in his irises, flickering like a carefully maintained candle flame. The tension seems to have left his shoulders too. I let mine sag in response, relief washing over me like a soothing blanket.</p>
<p>         I smile at the name, rolling it around in my mouth while I try to acquaint it with the woman I know. It doesn’t quite fit, but I could see how a small child might have given it to her to soften those hard features. The thought of her reminds me that she was taken into some form of custody earlier today, and that I haven't heard any news on her condition. My smile dies and the humor leaves my voice when I ask, “is she all right?”</p>
<p>         He tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, but nods tersely. It’s not exactly the answer I want, but he is clearly not ready to talk about it yet. As long as she is safe for now, I can deal with getting more answers later.</p>
<p>         We drop into silence again, and I take that time look down and check to make sure our daughter is still asleep. She yawns and squirms in response to my shift. Burying her face into my chest, she makes a little content sound.</p>
<p>        The moment I look up, I catch Cal watching her, uncertainty etched into every corner of his face. My heart beats a bit faster and I stroke her arm with my thumb before whispering, “she’s yours. I tried to tell you.”</p>
<p>         “I…” he begins to speak but his voice fails. As if the dam he has used to keep back a tidal wave of emotions finally explodes under the force, his entire being crumbles to ash and he sinks onto the bed to face me. The mask he had been trying so hard to maintain collapses and I see the truth he had been keeping from me by avoiding my eye since he entered the room. His self-loathing is at a level I couldn’t dream to reach at this moment. Maybe it had been there when I first learned the truth months ago, but it has since dipped.</p>
<p>          “I’m so sorry, Mare. I never,” his breathing hitches on the word and he balls his hands into fists on his thighs, his eyes squeezing shut against what he is trying to say. The temperature in the room fluctuates violently, but he tries so hard to maintain it. It’s a losing battle though. “I never wanted this to happen. To put you in this position. I ha—I <em>hate </em>myself for it.”</p>
<p>            I grab his wrist before I know what I’m doing and squeeze until he looks at me. Under my fingers his pulse pounds an irregular beat. He's never fallen apart like this in front of me. Even when everything had crumbled around us at Corros and on the Blackrun, he had maintained some resemblance of decorum. But something in him has fractured, and the scaffolding he builds himself on has broken under the weight of the knowledge I gave him. Still, I want to be soft when I speak, but my voice comes out like a decree. “I don’t. And I’m not sorry this happened.”</p>
<p>           Our daughter lets out her own noise of defiance, unhappy with me leaning forward and squishing her a little too much. I sit back instantly, but pull Cal’s hand with me, refusing to let go of him. “The only thing I regret is that I used you in that moment and only thought about what I wanted. I didn’t think about you or what our actions might cause or who that choice might affect.” The heat in his hand dims, as if the fire is simply dying inside of him or perhaps he senses the lightning rising in me as I get more agitated. “I do not regret her though. Or that she is ours.” I squeeze his hand for good measure, trying to get him to understand.</p>
<p>            His face remains in that crumbled state, and he slowly drops his chin to his chest. His fingers shift out of my grip to curl around my wrist like he might pull me toward him. I almost pull back, the feeling of something even remotely curling around that skin like a nightmare. He senses the shift and takes my hand instead. Without questioning my statement, he brings my fingers to his lips and holds them there before whispering, “I’m sorry you had to do this on your own, that you had to survive like that with no one to stand by your side.”</p>
<p><em>            I’m not</em>.</p>
<p>           I hold those words back. He doesn’t need to know that our daughter did more than just change my perception of the future. She changed me, made me stronger, less brittle and more pliable. Perhaps she will do the same for him when he’s ready.</p>
<p>          “Do you want to hold her?” I ask quietly. He raises his eyes before dropping them to her. She stretches a hand out of her blanket with a yawn again, obviously trying to ignore me as I continue to disturb her with my movements.</p>
<p>          His lips twist for a moment. “I don’t know how to.”</p>
<p>          With a smile, I beckon him closer to me. “I’ll show you.”</p>
<p>         He hesitates for another moment before sliding along the bed to my hip and bring his leg up to rest all his weight on his hip. I shift her against her wishes, and slide her into his outstretched arms. He struggles for a moment, obviously surprised by her light weight, and I guide his hand under her head before smiling at him as she settles into the crook of his body perfectly. Like me, she fits with him. It’s wonderful, and such a testament to the future that my face breaks into a grin so wide it hurts.</p>
<p>         “See? It’s not difficult.”</p>
<p>         I don’t think he is listening to me at all. His eyes are only on her as if he’s never seen anything like her, as if she is a marvel all to herself. His first inhale is ragged, and I think he might be upset by something he sees until he whispers weakly, “she’s beautiful.”</p>
<p>           He looks back up at me, his eyes rimming silver before he looks back down at her and says, “When—when you tried to tell me in Archeon, I thought I misunderstood you. For days I wondered what I did for the universe to decide I deserved something like this after the things I’ve done.”</p>
<p>         Something in my chest tugs painfully. The same thought had chased me for months, until I decided that the universe simply didn’t get to decide things like that. I don't tell him that though, let him believe in something like that if it makes sense for him. </p>
<p>          “Hello beautiful,” he whispers to her, and leans down to press a kiss between her eyes. She coos in response and reaches up with a hand to touch his cheek. Her hand meets the stubble on his jaw instead and she makes a noise half between a surprised squeak and a confused murmur before yanking her hand away like he burned the sensitive skin of her palm.</p>
<p>          He laughs at her response and whispers, “I’ll get rid of it for you if it bothers you, darling.”</p>
<p>          “I think you’ll have to get rid of it for me first. I’m not a fan of the suffering soldier look.” I tease, and get the crooked smile I fell in love with for my efforts. He can’t take his eyes off of her for long though, and instantly she has his attention again. If I thought getting her away from my mother was a problem, then I might have another thing coming with him. I might have to pry her out of his arms if I’m not careful.</p>
<p>           “Did you name her?” He asks with a smile that I quickly realize he has given no one but her. There is something so soft and mellow about it. It softens all the lines in his face and lightens his eyes to a lovely copper. A part of me is jealous that I never drew that smile out of him, but a much larger part laughs at that emotion. She is something new, something wonderful and something both of us made at the same time. She is all the wonderful things about us wrapped up in a tiny package. Of course she would bring something out of him that I couldn’t.</p>
<p>            Shaking my head, I reach out to brush my finger down her cheek. She arches her back and tries to turn her head in my direction in response. “Nothing seemed right.” Pursing my lips in annoyance at that fact, I glance up at him. I had finally come to the conclusion earlier today when my family was trying out names on her like they were hats, that perhaps her name was not mine to give. I gave her life, carried her for nine months and bore her into the world, but Cal put something of himself into her too. And although I gave all of that to her, it may be his turn to give her something else. </p>
<p>            “You should name her.” I whisper, and he frowns at the bluntness of my statement.</p>
<p>            “You gave birth to her.”</p>
<p>            “She is your daughter too.” I reason in response, before smiling and shrugging. “Besides, I thought she was a boy the whole time and had my heart set on Shade. There is nothing I can pull out of that name to give to her.”</p>
<p>             His expression falls at the mention of my brother and he whispers, “Farley had a similar idea.”</p>
<p>            “Well, the universe certainly had other plans.”</p>
<p>             “Or your brother decided he didn’t want either of you naming your children after him.” Cal shrugs with a smile. “As shocking as that would be.”</p>
<p>             I have to laugh, only to wince as the muscles in my stomach cramp again. The nurses told me it might be a few days still before I am completely back to normal, considering I had refused any healing. Wren had wiped most of the pains of my pregnancy away, fearing Maven’s wrath if anything went wrong. I won’t let anyone take these pangs and cramps from me now. </p>
<p>            “Are you sure you want me to name her?” He asks finally. I nod in response, certainty washing over me. I can always reject his decision and come to a good name with him if he cannot do it on his own. I have a feeling he will not pick anything too gaudy though. He hates his own birth name after all.</p>
<p>            Looking back down at her, he gives her one of his fingers to grip. She squeezes it in both her hands, strengthening her grip already.</p>
<p>            “Would you hate to name her after my mother?” He asks so hesitantly after staring into her eyes for long minutes that I think he’s testing the question before asking it for real. I almost refute the suggestion immediately, on principle that I am not naming my child after a queen. A part of me tugs quietly though, wonder and confusion washing over me. </p>
<p>             “It… wouldn’t be bad.” I almost grimace at the simple fact that it sounds like I am trying to let him down gently. He only shrugs at my assessment though.</p>
<p>              “Julian gave me something a few weeks ago, he had stashed it away so no one but him would be able to find it.” He tilts his head to the side as a darker emotion crosses his face. Swallowing, he wipes it away with a tiny smile and says, “he saved a copy of the diary my mother kept, and told me he planned to give it to me when I was ready and needed it.” </p>
<p>            With a shrug, he caresses our daughter's cheek with his thumb, and lets her close her mouth around it for a second. “He wanted me to understand her, to understand why she was the way she was. I don’t think he knew the effect it would have though.”</p>
<p>            I raise a brow, thinking back over the little I know about Cal’s mother. I’d seen the one portrait tucked away in the Lerolan estate, but the woman seemed to be a ghost other than that. Elara had done a remarkable job wipe her from history. My brother would be no different I suppose. Shade had died a quick, violent death, but he was laid to rest on an island that might someday be swallowed by the sea. His name will one day be wiped from the rock we had laid near his head, and the only people that will remember him will be my family, and those who knew him. After we are all gone though, Shade Barrow will no longer exist. The same can be said for Coriane Jacos. Julian and Sara are quite possibly the only people left that truly knew the former queen. Cal may have read her diary, but he did not know her. Her name and story will die with him, unless my daughters bears it for her. She could carry its meaning, the story of a forgotten queen who was taken long before her time came.</p>
<p>           For the first time, I understand the silly Silver tradition of naming sons after their fathers.</p>
<p>           “Coriane is a very pretty name.” I reason, testing it out a few times with a whisper. It sounds like a song, lovely and sad like the woman it had originally belonged to years ago. It is at once haunting and gentle, like the first bird taking flight across the sky at the beginning of spring, it’s cry echoing through the trees as it searches for a countermelody. It may never find the response to its song, but that sound used to be the only thing I loved about dawn in the Stilts.</p>
<p>           My daughter turns her head in my direction when I whisper it to her, and that brings a smile to my face. “Hello, Coriane,” I say to her as I give her my finger.  Immediately lets go of Cal’s to grip mine. Cooing to herself, she blinks her eyes and tries to bring my face into focus. It will be some time before she can see that far, but for now I am simply overjoyed that she recognizes my voice. </p>
<p>            For a long time, we sit in silence again as the two of us marvel at her and the life we created. Even if the universe had a hand in her creation, I doubt it could have created anything as remotely perfect as her.</p>
<p>            With a sigh, she settles back into Cal’s arms and closes her eyes, apparently done entertaining us for the time being. Her little chest rises and falls as her mouth opens in the little circle that tells me she’s drifted off to sleep. When her eyelids begin to flutter as she dreams, I let myself speak again.</p>
<p>            “Are you still in trouble?” I ask quietly, and that gets Cal’s undivided attention. He raises a brow at my inference before understanding settles over him.  </p>
<p>            “I think I dealt with the issue for now.” He murmurs, but the tension in his jaw tells me things are not completely resolved, or he doesn’t like the conclusion. I don’t rush him, hoping that by simply waiting on the periphery he will come to me with the answer. He has always done that for me. It is only fair that I return the favor for him now. </p>
<p>             After another long while that he spends watching her, he sighs. The sound is long and low like the air is being forcibly removed from his chest. “I made a deal. No repercussions, or punishment in exchange for my total cooperation.”</p>
<p>            “Cooperation?”</p>
<p>            He dips his head to kiss Coriane’s forehead, his eyes are open though as he stares beyond her and into the middle distance. “The Colonel and Davidson were clear when they brought me in for questioning. My child and any of my future children cannot be heirs. And I agreed to that fact. I won’t put Coriane in danger because of my title.”</p>
<p>            “I already told Anabel that.”</p>
<p>             He nods, and finally closes his eyes, his jaw tightening. “Tomorrow morning, I will film an announcement of my abdication and swear my oath to the Scarlet Guard on a live broadcast.”</p>
<p>            My heart skips a beat, and I turn his statement over in my head, wondering if I misheard him somewhere or perhaps am simply dreaming this moment. I pinch the skin inside of my wrist just to be certain I won’t wake up in my bed at the Lerolan estate with my arms empty and my heart broken by the absence of my daughter. “You… you are denying your birthright?”</p>
<p>            “Nanabel is furious with me for it. She kept trying to get me to find another way out of the mess I got us into, but there wasn’t another way. I knew it was coming to this point the minute I sent her the coordinates to this base and helped her plan to get you out. When the Colonel practically kicked my door down and dragged me into interrogation for it, I knew it was the only thing that would get me out and to you two.”</p>
<p>            His lips twist in displeasure, but he presses another light kiss to Coriane's head before continuing. “Nanabel tried her best to argue for a different alternative of course, but they know the reasons for her interests in me and Coriane, and they know about her alliance with the Samos family in the Rift. Davidson even told her as much.”</p>
<p>           “Davidson? You keep mentioning him, who is that?”</p>
<p>            He straightens up, confusion etched into his features until I raise a brow in irritation. He can’t honestly expect me to know who he’s talking about. I was locked in a room in Archeon for months and then carefully sheltered during my time on the tour. I didn’t exactly have time to learn the names of all the new members of the Scarlet Guard.</p>
<p>            Recognizing the source of my annoyance, and clearing his throat, he hides his embarrassed flush by looking down at Coriane. “Davidson is the Premier of Montfort. After we took Corvium, they came to us with an alliance. Apparently we were not... stable enough for a full alliance until then."</p>
<p>            A Premier, not a king. I’ve never heard of such a thing and I’m not sure what it means. But Montfort has always been a mystery, even Julian could not tell me about it during out lessons when I asked. And those strange twins that had tried to recruit me on Tuck had not given away any of its secrets either.</p>
<p>           “Do we trust him?” I don’t remember ever asking Cal that question like that before. His eyes narrow and I realize it sounds like I am asking if the Guard trusts this man, but I mean the two of us. I want him to understand that the decision he has made cements the two of us together. We are a team now, a front to keep Coriane safe and out of reach of the monsters that either want her dead or sitting on a throne. Every person that comes into her life has to be managed by us, and has to be trusted in order to be near her.</p>
<p>           “I’m not sure.” Cal murmurs before glancing out the window at the fountain that is still bubbling peacefully. “He expressed to me that he would do everything in his power to help you get out of Archeon, regardless of the paternity of your child. He found out it was mine because Rafe saw what you said and told him. He didn’t seem surprised, but then again I don’t think anyone could read that man even after studying him for years.”</p>
<p>           “Again, who is Rafe?" I ask with an annoyed sigh. "From now on, just assume I don’t know who anyone in <em>any</em> of your stories are.” I grumble, and he laughs, waking Coriane with the sound. She cries softly, and he stifles the sound quickly before trying to get her to fall back asleep.</p>
<p>            “Rafe is one of the electricons. He was the one on the platform when we almost got you out. He’s like you, a New Blood able to create, control, and maintain electricity.” He explains it to me like he used do with court protocol and abilities in Training when I was masquerading as Mareena and he was Cal, a prince on the verge of greatness and doom at the same time.</p>
<p>             When he can’t quiet Coriane's cries, I hold my hands out and he regretfully slides her back into my arms. As I settle back among the pillows with her, I whisper, “there are more like me than just him. There was a woman in Archeon.” </p>
<p>              “Ella.” He replies.</p>
<p>              “Are there more?”</p>
<p>              “Just Tyton that<em> I</em> know of, but there could be more than you four in Montfort. The three of them are very eager to meet you though. Ella especially.” He smiles gently at whatever memory he associates with that comment. “I told them you’ll need time and that Coriane may be your priority for some time.”</p>
<p>              I glance down at her in response, wondering how much time I may have with her. Maven is still alive and as long as he is alive, she is in danger. As long as he lives, my vow to her is unfulfilled. My vow to the country and all the people he had tortured is unfulfilled. While I wish she could be the only priority I have, there is something greater that I am involved with.</p>
<p>               “You don’t have to go back.” Cal whispers, and when I look up, I realize my face had been pinched while I was deep in thought. He’s not stupid either, he knows how I think, and I’m sure he knows the exact path my thoughts took.</p>
<p>               Caressing Coriane’s cheek once more, I whisper, “As long as he’s alive, he’ll hunt us down. She won’t be safe until he’s dead.”</p>
<p>               His shoulders tense, but he hides the movement by shifting to rest his forearms on his leg. I ignore the reason behind that flinch for now. He wasn’t in Archeon with me, he didn’t see how fractured Maven truly was, and the things he was willing to do. Cal didn't hear how he had threatened to do unspeakable things to our daughter just to make the two of us hurt. I wonder if he would still feel the same way about him if I told him the truth. Cal has been through more than enough in the past few days though. He’s become a father, given up the only thing he truly knows and understands, and quite possibly destroyed his relationship with hie grandmother in an irreparable manner in the span of today alone. The truth about Maven can wait.</p>
<p>               He still seems to consider my words and the meaning behind them for a long time before saying, “I know I promised you once before that I would not let him hurt you, and I didn’t keep that promise—”</p>
<p>              “I didn’t let you keep it.” I correct, but he waves off my words with a dismissive hand. His eyes are dark though, filling with shadows that spill out over his face and turn him into the man I remember from the Sun Shooting, who went to hunt down the people that had hurt the people he knew and loved without remorse.</p>
<p>              “But I swear on my colors now that I will die before I let him touch either of you again. And if he did manage to get his hands on you, nothing would stop me from destroying him and getting you both back.”</p>
<p>               The promise is enough for me, even if I see the grandness and the flaw of it. He may never be able to keep his word, but I know he would do everything in his power to try. “I know.” I whisper in response before leaning forward to rest my forehead against his. His breath is warm on my cheeks and he still smells like pine and woodsy smoke. If I close my eyes, I can pretend I’m still curled up in his arms I the Notch, pretending that the world is far away. The world can be far away for now though. He is no longer a memory I used to turn over in my hands while in Archeon to avoid the crushing weight of my own loneliness. I can have him forever, and Coriane can have him as long as she needs him, perhaps even beyond that too. </p>
<p>              “I want you to stay.” I whisper to him, “I want you to stay until I’m gone, and then I want you to stay until we’re both dust and a faint memory.”</p>
<p>                He closes his lips over mine, stealing the last word from my mouth. Like with every kiss he gives me, it sparks to life a fire in my chest like flint meeting stone. Although this fire is uncertain for now and threatens to flicker out at the slightest breeze, it is still full of hope and promise, for the future, and for whatever we have yet to face together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                                                                                                                        ~END~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The plan from here is as follows lovelies: A Notch Chapter from Cal's POV (the one where the baby is brought into existence, E rating for obvious reasons), Another Side Chapter from Cal's POV that flashes back to the moment he learns of his newfound fatherhood, and then I may or may not have an epilogue for you all (this is very preliminary, but it is in the works given Song of Fire had one). </p>
<p>Thank you to all of you who stayed with this story for so long. The engagement with this fic was... exceptional 🥺. You guys were wonderful and gave me so much love and I cannot thank you enough for that, and I am so very grateful.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jk you all thought that was the end??? Never. This AU now owns my heart too. This chapter is a little shorter than the others but that's just because it was a baby sojourn back to this fic to hit the final cover (((:</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'll try to have the Cal part and the Notch chapter up soon!!!! (((:</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Epilogue </strong>
</p><p>Even in the early hours of the morning, Paradise Valley is striking. A fall mist hangs over the ground, but the air is still crystal clear and cold. It leaves a burning trail down my throat as I edge out onto the porch and inhale. A breeze plays in my hair, tugging on the strands that didn’t make it into my hastily made braid when I stumbled out of bed this morning. It cuts through the thick blanket I threw around my shoulders and prickles along the parts of my skin exposed to it. The birds are just starting to sing sweetly from the trees behind the cabin. Even with all the death I have seen in the past few months, life is still moving forward. <em>Mine</em> is moving forward by leaps and bounds. Coriane demands every ounce of my attention now that I am back from Norta, but I am not opposed to that. She gives me a chance to push the dark thoughts to the back of my mind for most of the day.</p><p>Craning my neck as I glance to the side, I expel a sigh of annoyance that leaves me in a puff of smoke. “I hope you haven’t been out here for too long with her. I am not dealing with a three month old with a cold.”</p><p>Cal glances up from the porch swing he is gently rocking in to offer me a smile. His cheeks are flushed silver with the cold, but his smile doesn’t give away if he truly notices the temperature. <em>Lucky bastard</em>.</p><p>“She likes watching the sunrise.” His breath fogs more than mine, and he only has a semi-heavy jacket on to combat the chill. I really hope for his sake he hasn’t been out here that long either.</p><p>“She doesn’t even know what a sunrise is.” I grumble before crossing the porch and nudging his shoulder with my hand. He scoots enough so that I can climb onto the bench seat and curl up against him. It rocks gently under my weight, but he puts a foot down on the worn floorboards to ease the chair back to a gentle sway.</p><p>Soaking up the warmth that he exudes, I let my eyes fall closed for just a second before sliding a hand to the bundle of blankets he’s tucked into the crock of his arm. Shifting an edge slightly, I smile at my daughter who is fast asleep. Her little nose and cheeks are slowly turning pink, but she looks quite content as is. Her breaths leave in little puffs, and I tug the little hat Gisa knit her further down over her brow to cover her ears better.</p><p>“She drank her whole bottle this morning.” Cal murmurs as he slides an arm around my shoulders to pull me closer.    </p><p>“Really?” My smile goes so wide my cheeks ache against the strain. She’s been fussy about taking her bottle all week since we switched to that, but maybe she’s finally turning a corner. It’s a relief, given she was such a good baby before that fiasco. I was worried she was hiding a nasty personality beneath that sweet smile and innocent eyes. It’s nice to know that’s not the case.</p><p>I brush a finger along her cheek at the thought, making her shiver and whine in displeasure. With a flutter of eyelashes, she opens her eyes to glare at me.</p><p>“Oh we’re not happy about that.” I tease her, and get a little hiccup from Coriane in response.</p><p>“She downed it and then cried for more.”</p><p>“My mom was feeding her too much then.” My smile flips, but I can’t be too upset. My mother had bemoaned the fact that my child was so small, and I was not opposed to rounding out Coriane’s cheeks a little bit. She was a cute baby before, but with rounder cheeks she was devastatingly cute. The kind of cute that got people to give her anything she wanted just to get her to smile.</p><p>She squirms in the blanket, freeing a hand that she waves to get our attention. Cal lets her clutch his fingers as he says, “I missed you both while I was gone.”</p><p>My chest squeezes at the thought of the few months we spent apart. He was needed in the States to transition power, and I—I needed to not be there. There was too much blood spilt, too many close calls and dark memories. I’d left him there, turned my back and went straight back to Coriane.</p><p>“It was strange not having you around.” I reply, trying to avoid meeting his eye as I gaze out over the grassy plain that stretches in front of the cabin. As the sun begins to rise, the mist dispels reluctantly, trying to keep its grip on the ground just like I am trying to keep a grip on my emotions. There are so many of them bubbling under the surface I don’t know what to do with all of them. I doubt Cal is aware of what is happening, and I’m sure he would stop pushing if he did know.</p><p>Cal’s fingers brush the loose hairs away from my face, and trail down my cheek in a barely-there touch. He has to know about my reluctance and the bottle of emotion I am trying to keep locked away for the sake of Coriane. He has his own deep well that he tends to, but we don’t ever speak to each other about it.</p><p>“Tell me something.” He insists quietly, his fingers stilling on the back of my neck. “Something true.”</p><p>I glance up at him warily, wondering if he is really ready to have the discussion we had been dancing around since he got here days ago, of if he is searching for something else. I’m not the best at deep conversations, or telling the truth. I’ve been lied to and manipulated so much in my life already that it is simply a natural reaction to do the same. There is such an gravity to his expression as he holds my gaze, and his eyes are open and ready for whatever I have to say. I don’t know if his heart is though.</p><p>“I’m glad you here now.” I tell him, and return the smile Coriane gives me as I look at her. Her expression dips when she notices that my smile doesn’t reach my eyes. She’s strangely intuitive for a baby, and reads my emotions better than I read my own sometimes. Knowing that has helped me school my features into fake smiles that can actually reach my eyes now. She can still see though that mask at times, but for the most part, I can convince her I’m happy which keeps her happy.</p><p>Reaching her hands for me, she clenches them into little fists when I don’t immediately take her from Cal. He hands her over as soon as her face scrunches up in the beginning of a tantrum. As soon as she settles into the crook of my arm though, the storm vanishes from behind her eyes. Nuzzling against me, she coos to herself and squeezes the edges of my blankets in her hands.</p><p>The hairs near my forehead shift as Cal tucks them behind my ear dragging me back to his question and the moment. The weight of his gaze is like lead, and I know that if I just glance out of the corner of my eye I will see him watching me. I’m not ready to meet his gaze, or face this conversation.</p><p>Laying Coriane in my lap, I let her settle in the dip between my legs and smile down at her as she takes to gripping my fingers in her hands. She laughs, squirming and arching her back to try and pull my hands closer to her mouth. She likes to suck on fingers now, something Gisa thinks is adorable, but I am trying to stop her from doing. I’ve caught her letting Coriane gnaw on her fingers plenty of times even after I told her to stop.</p><p>“Answer a question for me.” He says when I don’t speak again. “Truthfully please.” He adds the last part like an afterthought. Even I know it is something that burns his tongue as it crosses his mind and he speaks it into reality.</p><p>Now he has my attention, and I stop bouncing Coriane’s hands earning a disappointed sounds from her before she nudges them herself.</p><p>“Always.” I reply, searching his face for exactly what he wants to hear. He keeps his emotions locked up tight though, and buried beneath the surface. He’s dangerously good at it now, and it makes me nervous. I loved another prince who excelled at that too. Like wolves, we circle each other and seek out the soft spots the other tries to hide.</p><p>His eyes drop to Coriane, and he brushes his finger along her cheek as his lips draw down into a frown. “Do you still want me to stay?”</p><p>If we weren’t speaking, I would have thought he asked her that question instead me. Coriane turns her face to him and giggles before dropping one of my hands to catch his fingers as they pull away from her. She barely misses and her face scrunches up again before she waves her hand and stretches to grasp at him. She almost succeeds in rolling out of my lap before she catches his fingers in her grip and holds on tightly.</p><p>The whole thing reminds me why I told him where my family was staying in the first place. Coriane needs him, wants him around too. She doesn’t know that I killed a brother, and left Cal with no one and nothing but her. She had been delighted to see him the moment he walked in the door, and his entire face had lit up like a sun when he saw her. His happiness is more muted around me, but she brings out the joy in him that I missed.</p><p>Regardless of what has happened, I cannot tear them apart. It would break my heart to take her away from him just because I felt as if he couldn’t bear the sight of me.</p><p>“Coriane needs you.” I whisper quietly while I watch her explore his hand with her own tiny one.</p><p>“But you don’t?”</p><p>“I—” I don’t know what to say to that. I haven’t needed anyone in a long time. Even when I was pregnant with Coriane I had shut myself off from the world, resolved to do the whole thing on my own. But Cal had come into the picture when I got to Piedmont with her, and he had been such a constant wonderful presence that I couldn’t imagine doing those first weeks and months without him. Even when we went to Montfort and I left her behind to travel back to Norta, he had promised me under a diamond encrusted sky that he would do everything in his power to come back to that place with me. For a moment, I had imagined a <em>life. </em>I’d thought beyond today and into tomorrow. I never took that risk growing up, there had always been too many things in the way of the future.</p><p>But I had seen it clearly in that moment as he took my hands and pulled me into his arms. We would come back together, because there was no way in hell my daughter would be an orphan or be raised by one of us alone. We’d buy a little house somewhere in the city, and I would watch her walk, talk and grow into the smart, beautiful girl I knew she was going to be.</p><p>That part of me, and that vision, was what gave me the strength in the end to push that knife though Maven’s ribs even as I bleed out on the floor. That man would not take me from my daughter. He’d taken so much from me already. I wouldn’t let him take that future from me.</p><p>“In a perfect world, without the reconstruction, without the Lakelands, and Prairie, and Montfort, and everything, what would you have us do?”</p><p>“It doesn’t work like that.” I immediately bite back at him, something akin to icy fury rising from my chest.</p><p>His eyes are dark, molten like melting ore. “Humor me.” He drops his voice in case anyone in awake. I doubt it. Without the structure of the military, my brothers sleep until noon. Gisa might be awake but she spends her mornings either soaking in a bath or sewing quietly in her bed. My parents soak up all the warmth they can get from under the covers of their bed too. There is no one to hear this conversation, no prying ears that might use the information against us. But we’re not used to that privacy. For so long there were ears and eyes everywhere.</p><p>Sighing, I let my eyes drop closed. “I would ask you to stay.” His forehead rests against my temple at the words, and his warmth brushes over me like a blanket. “And,” my voice breaks but I clear my throat to continue. “I would hope that every time you looked at me, you wouldn’t see your brother’s corpse.”</p><p>His inhale is ragged. It’s a torn and broken thing that reminds me of the gasp of air he took when the healer finally cleared his lung of the water on the shores of Harbor Bay. I thought I’d lost him in that moment, that Coriane had lost him. I would have never forgiven him if he died that day, even if my heart would have ached for the rest of my life with his memory.</p><p>“I don’t see him every time I look at you.” He breaths, cupping my chin to bring my eyes to him.</p><p>I sweep over his face, taking in every inch of skin I can. A dark shadow is creeping along his jaw and up his cheeks. His nose is still impossibly straight, and his eyes, while haunted by the knowledge I have bestowed on him, are lighter than I’ve seen them in a long time. He smells like the pine soap that is stored here, and his calloused hands are as sure as they’ve always been.</p><p>“Since this is not a perfect world, do<em> you</em> want me to stay?” He breathes, his expression crumbling before I even answer. He always expects the worst now. He’s gotten so much bad news lately and seen so many horrible things. I can’t imagine him believing he’ll hear what he wants to where I am concerned.</p><p>Cupping his hand with mine, I trace the outline of his fingers. The ghost of them running over my body last night is almost lost in the light of day. He’d been so gentle with me lately, as if he were afriad I would break under his touch. I want to tell him that I am stronger than I appear. Maven did not break me beyond repair, and neither did his loss.</p><p>I don’t need Cal, but I want him. I want him with a yearning that is so deep it settles in part of me I don’t have a name for and grips my heart in a vice every time I imagine him leaving for good. I told him once that I loved him, and those words had been true. I wonder if it is possible to love someone so much that it goes beyond any other feeling. If there is even a name for a person who you want to stay by your side forever, but don’t necessarily need to support you at all times. Maybe someday I will need him, when the dust has settled, and I have patched up all the holes in my psyche. But for now, I am happy with simply wanting him.</p><p>“I want you to stay.” I whisper to him, and his exhale leaves him with a wave of heat that chases away the lingering cold of the morning. “We’ll be a work in progress,” I murmur, earning his gaze, but it flashes with a wonderful light at the same time that he smiles gently.</p><p>“I can’t imagine us any other way.”</p><p>“And we can’t make promises we can’t keep.” I urge, even as he drops his chin and presses a kiss against my jaw. I would love to fall into the distraction and hurry inside to put Coriane in her crib, but the words won’t stop tumbling out of my mouth. “You have things to do back east—”</p><p> “And I can fly a jet very well.” He murmurs as he presses another kiss against my exposed collarbone. His breath brushes against my skin, and my arms immediately erupt in gooseflesh.</p><p>“You can’t just commander a jet when you want to come see us.” I grumble, earning a chuckle from him as he leans down to press a kiss on the tip of Coriane’s nose. She squirms immediately and tries to push his face away when he goes to nuzzle her cheek with his nose too.</p><p>Looking back up at me, he gives me the same easy, lopsided grin that still makes my heart flutter. “I’ll try my best to be wherever you two are.”</p><p>“We won’t always be together. If—when I decide to join back up with all this, Coriane is staying with my family, and I may not be anywhere near the States—”</p><p>“Mare, if all you’re worried about is distance, then I don’t see a real problem anymore.” He admonishes me with a teasing kiss on the tip of my nose. It’s the twin to one he just gave Coriane, who protests when I shift face him completely. My next question might put a damper on his mood and on the little light that is starting to burn to life in my chest, but it has to be voiced. It demands it.</p><p>“What if we never get better? What if we never move past everything?” I whisper the question that had been haunting me for days. I had lain away looking at his face in the dark turning it over in my head while he slept. It crossed my mind every time I saw him holding Coriane and talking to her about everything around her. What if I never forgave myself completely for the things that I did? What if both of our demons became too much for one another?</p><p>His smile falls, and his eyes darken with understanding. Somewhere behind him, a bird calls as it swoops along the ground. Inside, I can hear the sound of my mother in the kitchen talking to Gisa. Everyone is up so much earlier than normal.</p><p>“Do you want to know the truth?” He asks with a tilt of his head. I barely nod in response. His answer could change everything from this moment forward. We have switched places in this conversation so quickly. Now I am the uncertain one, hanging off of every word and terrified of the answers he might give.  </p><p>“I think we have time.” He shrugs before turning his gaze out onto the view of the sunrise. It’s finally crested over the mountains, burning away the last of the morning’s gray pallet to replace it with golden reds and greens. Autumn is hard on the heels of spring, and is desperate to claim its hold over the world. There is still some warmth let though, still some time left. “More of it than we know what to do with actually.” He finishes his thought with a smile as he turns back to me.</p><p>There may not be as much as he thinks. Coriane is a speed bump we hit daily. While we will be trying to grow together, she will be growing too. She’ll need us to be ready when she has hard questions, and when she starts causing havoc. It may be sooner than we think too. She’s already laughing and her little sounds are slowly turning into babbling. She’ll be talking before we know it, and then walking and then running and then—</p><p>So much. It’s too much. How could I possibly have let this happen? How could I have let Maven push me into this corner so that I now have to face this future?</p><p>            I wouldn’t change it though. My daughter chases away the darkness with a smile, and tilts me world on its axis when she laughs. I am tethered to her with a bright red string and I couldn’t imagine me world without her in it.</p><p>Speaking of Coriane, she interrupts my chance to answer with a comically loud sneeze that draws both our attentions. She blinks in surprise at the sound she just made, her fingers spread open before her in shock before her little nose scrunches up and she sneezes again.</p><p>I stand quick enough that I get woozy for half a heartbeat and the chair almost smacks the railing of the porch. “Dammit Cal, I told you not to keep her out here this long.” I admonish before hugging her close to my chest and starting for the front door. He tries to protest my words, but ends up laughing in the end, even when I glare at him over my shoulder. I can’t stay mad at him as he laughs and hurried after me. We smile at each other in the doorway, squishing Coriane between our bodies. I brush a hand along her head, shifting the hat to reveal the jet black hair that is slowly curling at the edges. Her nose is scrunched up at being squashed, but she doesn’t cry at the position.</p><p>“We have time.” I whisper to myself and to her. I promised her once that anything Maven did to her, I would do to him ten-fold. I don’t have to keep that promise anymore though.</p><p>The exhale that leaves me steals some of the ache from my chest. Lifting her up, I press another kiss to her head as I brush past Cal completely and into the entry hall so he can close the door. Cradling Coriane against my cheek, I drop another kiss near her ear and whisper, “You’ll never suffer the things I did. You’ll never want for anything. You’ll never wake up in a world where you are afraid of what is outside your window. I promise, darling.”</p><p>She drops her cheek to rest it in the crook of my neck, and her lips mouth against my skin in her own form a kiss. Cal’s hand rests against my lower back and I glance up at him with a tiny smile. “We have time.” I repeat, and he dips his chin in a subtle nod.</p><p>I have so much time, I wonder what I will do with all of it. Maybe somewhere along the way, I will heal. For now though, I am content with the path I tread. My feet are sure, and my mind is made up. There is a weight lifted from my chest at that thought. Time, and the seconds, minutes, hours, days I have ahead of me do not seem so bleak anymore.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Part 8 (Cal)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The first of two parts from Cal's perspective in this fic. ((: </p><p>Listen, characters receiving traumatic life changing news and then either collapsing to their knees or vomiting is one of the sexiest tropes ever created (It’s called ✨Anxiety✨ Cal, darling). Please do not @ me for that fact. Also, CUE THE CAL/FARLEY BROMANCE. I love those two fucking losers bonding over making poor sexual decision where Barrow siblings are concerned.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you to everyone who has stuck it out for these two parts. I hope to have the next one up soon, like actually soon. Smut is so hard for me to write, but I'll try to push through for you guys XD.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part 8</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Heatwaves dance along the top of the tarmac, and shimmering puddles of oil ripple with the wind generated by the airship engines powering down. The whole image has an odd tranquility to it, like a painting in an art galley. Not that I have spent much time in those. Maybe I should have.</p><p>The moans of the wounded and the shouts for healers and medical supplies as people are ferried off of the dropjets and airships finally filters through the ringing in my ears. Whatever illusion of peace had settled over the Peidmont base whisks away like clouds on a windy day. The roar of the engines left running are simply a dull groan against my ears as I try to maneuver through the crowds. Subconsciously I search for the faces that matter to me, and count our losses. There far more numerous than we thought, even with Montforts numbers to bolster ours. Behind me, the last of the evacuation party trudges behind, chins up even though we failed miserably at the one thing we had been tasked with.</p><p>Ahead of me, Ella storms toward the Montfort tent, her eyes peeled for Tyton while Rafe trails her. The electricons are never far from one another as if a tether has been attached between all their ribs. It’s easier think about them now, and not the person who was meant to be the fourth member of their group.</p><p>My stomach clenches painfully and I have to stop as saliva gathers in my mouth ahead of the metal tang in the back of my throat I recognize well. I’ve kept it down for the most part, but now that we’re on solid ground and don’t have a metal grating to stare at, I cannot fight the wave of nausea.</p><p>The rest of the group filters around me like water around a rock. One of the older Montfort soldiers slows long enough to rest a tentative hand on my shoulder and squeeze before continuing to the medical tent. He’s wearing the small band on his arm that identifies him as a healer, his day only gets longer from here. I hadn’t bothered to shake him off, not when my mind continues to replay every second of storming the Treasury like a broken record stuck on the same chorus of the same hideous song. It had felt wrong to stand over maps and tell these people every weak spot, ever poorly executed security choice weeks ago, but in that moment as we rushed down the gleaming halls after Maven’s wedding party, I would have killed any Sentinel in my way. Regardless of House or Silver blood. I’d seen an Arven manhandle her like she was a child while she screamed and fought tooth and nail against him. I would have torn him to pieces for it if I had been quick enough to get my hands on him.</p><p>My feet carry me in the same direction of Ella and Rafe on their own accord, and for that I am grateful. I have little space in my mind to be thinking about things other than simply staying upright. My wandering is not always appreciated, and at the moment I fear it is largely infuriating. I am a ghost among these people after all, an apparition that appears when they least want it. Only the electricons tolerate me, which may be Ella’s doing. She has a strange knack for finding lost people and putting them where they belong.</p><p>“She was right there, I saw her. I almost had her if that damn Swift hadn’t tackled me.” Ella’s voice rings loud and clear from the tent I don’t remember entering. I’m in there now though, and leaving is only going to make things more awkward. The space is small, and with Ella’s large personality filling it, I at least have the ability to try and shrink into a corner. My thoughts are like flea ridden dogs chewing unsuccessfully at my mind.  </p><p>Across from her, Tyton’s jaw feathers as she speaks, and his eyes dart to Rafe who huffs. A healer tends to a wound in his arm that I never saw him receive. It might have been when we were separated in the square though.</p><p>“You almost had her?” He growls, his eyes are cold when they land on me standing in the corner. “We were five feet from her.” He pushes to his feet and the healer lets out a long suffering sigh.</p><p>“And you let her go!” His words cut deep because he’s right. I let Maven take Mare. We might have had a chance to pull her away from him, to fight back the Sentinels and rescue her. But he put that knife to her neck, and every resemblance of forethought I had went out the window.  </p><p>“He would have killed her if you took another step closer.” I whisper because the words taste like bile on my tongue. I close my mouth quickly after I speak, terrified that something other than words will come up. I won’t be sick right here. The last thing I need is that on my record with these strange Montfort soldiers.</p><p>There is a difference between holding back an puddle of water and holding back a wave when it is continuing to crash on top of you though.</p><p>My hands are shaking on the edge of my perception, and I can feel the chill that goes through my body even as I try to fight it. My chest hitches painfully, and my stomach tries to climb up in my throat. Forcing it down with sheer will, I hiss, “You wouldn’t have been able to stop him and save her in time.”</p><p>“We had Johann with us. Even if Maven cut her throat, we’d healer her faster than she could die.”</p><p>“The baby—” Ella begins, but Rafe snorts in disgust and waves her words away like smoke.</p><p>“Who cares what happens to it. That bastard wants to kill his own child, who cares?”</p><p>I can’t breathe. My vision keeps going in and out of focus. Fumbling with a hand as quietly as I can, I try to find something to lean on and to catch myself. I’m in free fall though, scrambling for solid ground. There is none to be found though, and I feel the blood drain from my face at the same time that I lose the battle with my stomach.</p><p>Ella is the only one to notice and her expression shifts dramatically as she flips around to grab the nearest bucket and shoves it into my hands. I almost drop it when the rim catches the bottom of my ribs painfully, but I still crouch down, hoping the wave passes quick.</p><p>It doesn’t. I didn’t eat anything today. I was too afraid of being slow, of being lethargic. There’s nothing for my body to expel, but it puts up a fantastic effort trying to do just that.</p><p>Around my dry heaving, I can hear Ella urging the healer out, saying they’ll handle this. I don’t want them to handle this. I should have gone straight back to my bunk room and done this. I hate having an audience for anything, let alone a moment like this when I am so very vulnerable. Why did I even follow them in here? A part of me knows it’s because I’m terrified to be alone with the knowledge Mare left me with, the other part is hoping they might provide me with a plan or someway to move forward.</p><p>The knowledge Mare Barrow imparted sits like a block of Silent Stone in my stomach, weighing me down until I’m certain I’ll drown. My body tries with everything it has to force it up and out too. As if something like that can be <em>removed</em>, as if it has not changed my very existence on this earth and grown roots in my soul. As if the <em>entire </em>world didn’t slide out from underneath my feet to leave me suspended in a strange limbo.</p><p>Ella’s hands are gentle on my shoulders as she whispers from behind me, “it’s all right. Let it happen.”</p><p>“I can’t breathe.” I gasp. How has she lived with this knowledge for months and not fallen apart? The note I managed to get smuggled to her seems like pathetic consolation for what she must have been going through. She’d been alone with everything. I had promised her she’d <em>never </em>be alone again. I drop my head, and this time bile comes up when my stomach heaves.</p><p>“Hells, he’s having a mental breakdown now?” Rafe’s voice rings on the edge of my perception.</p><p>“I’ll get someone.” Tyton murmurs, the tent flap whipping against a pole signaling his departure. Ella doesn’t even acknowledge either of their words, simply presses her thumbs into a tender spot on the base of my skull. The tension miraculously leaves my shoulders as if her touch simply ordered them into submission. She pulls back when she notices, but a hand still stays on my shoulder to assure me that I’m not alone. I hate that I want to lean into her support. I don’t deserve it, and there are other people that need it far more than I do.</p><p>The tent flap shifts again, and I close my eyes as I rest my forehead on the rim of the bucket. I have to pull myself together. The Barrows are waiting for an update, for their daughter, and I failed to bring them what they so desperately need. The least I can do is try to scrounge together some resemblance of a plan, another attempt to keep them from falling apart.</p><p>“Stand up,” a stern voice cuts through the silence of the tent. Even though my entire body groans at being ordered around, Farley will not be ignored. I can’t summon the strength to rise though. My legs are shaking and my hands are still gripping the rim of the bucket like it might be able to anchor me now that I’ve been set adrift.  </p><p>“You are a General and a prince, whether you are recognized or not. Stand up, and act like a man.” Her steps are heavy as she comes to stand in front of me. “You kept yourself together for months and now you choose to fall apart?”</p><p> I can’t look at her, can’t acknowledge the fact that she will never look at me the same again when she learns the truth.</p><p>“Both of you, out.” She orders, and although she technically is not Ella or Rafe’s superior, she holds a rank above both of them. They both flitter out of the tent like colorful streaks, neither needing to be told twice.</p><p>Farley’s boot taps impatiently on the edge of my vision, and when she speaks this time, it’s quieter. “Command is already tracking the train, we’ll have another shot at her.”</p><p>“That’s not—” I squeeze my eyes shut against the heat that wants to explode out from under my skin. Some of it still leaks through against my control, and Farley’s foot falls still as it washes over her. She’s no stranger to Silver or New Blood abilities now, they surround her on all sides, but she is not afraid of us. I suppose that is nice though. I don’t like be singled out anymore. That doesn't mean she tolerates the little bursts of my ability that slip out when my emotions are too strong to contain. </p><p>Slowly setting the bucket aside, I let my hands dangle between my legs as my chin drops to my chest. How do I even tell someone what I know? Should I even tell anyone? There are so many horrible implications if I do. But it changes everything. People had already been reluctant to rescue Mare, believing that her pregnancy was proof she had chosen her side. The truth changes everything. Unless it wasn’t the truth. What if she said it to save herself? To spur me on to grab her and get her away from him?</p><p><em>No</em>. The word rises from a quiet part of myself, the eye of the storm. <em>Mare Barrow has done many things, manipulative things, but she has never lied to you. </em></p><p>I squeeze my hands into fists, opening my eyes to the cracked concrete underneath my feet. My vision takes a moment to adjust to the light, and in that time, I set my jaw. I have to tell her, Farley will know what to do with the information, who to give it to, who will do the most with it.</p><p>“It’s mine.” I whisper. The stone weighing my stomach down lifts slightly, and the knot in my throat loosens. “It’s mine.” I repeat, stronger this time and the knot completely vanishes from my throat. The truth uproots every other sensation as I reiterate those words in my mind.</p><p>
  <em>It’s yours.</em>
</p><p>“Hell, Cal you’re making no sense.” Farley fires back, drawing my eyes. She crosses her arms across her front. Even as pregnant as she is, she cuts an imposing figure still. As tired as she is too, her eyes are diamond hard, and her lips draw into a tight line when she sees the steel in my own gaze. While there is certainly no love lost between us, we do share a common goal. Keep the Barrow family together as best we can and get Mare out of Maven's hands. She will understand if I tell her, and know what to do. I'm certain of it. </p><p>“It’s mine. It’s not Maven’s.”</p><p>She opens her mouth to say something else only for those words to finally catch like embers in dry tinder. Her eyes fly open and her mouth drops open in a soft circle. It’s a relief that someone is just as shocked as me. I’d just gotten used to the fact that perhaps whatever had passed between us on the Blackrun as it went down had been a mistake. If perhaps I had misunderstood the thoughts behind her eyes. If whatever had happened in the Notch had been nothing after all. If those letters she saved from him had been worth more than the words I whispered against her skin and the nightmares I chased away. </p><p>She slowly sinks into the chair Rafe had occupied only a few minutes ago. “All this time… you didn’t know.”</p><p>“It was one time, I didn’t think—”</p><p>She howls with laughter, cutting me off. Shaking her head and throwing a scrutinizing eye in my direction she says, “Oh you are stupider than I thought. It only takes once Calore.”</p><p>My face burns at the implication, but there is nothing I can say to refute her statement. I should have kept that tidbit to myself, but unfortunately it’s out in the open now and it tells her more about me than I want her to know right now.</p><p>She laughs softly to herself as she stares off the side into the middle distance. She does this more and more lately, and I never bother to disturb her when she does. She deserves a few quiet minutes in a day. Her smile slowly falls as her thoughts come to a conclusion and she whispers softly, “then he knows, and he will never let her go.”</p><p>The stone in my stomach grows to twice its size and drops lower. It takes my breath away. Archeon was the last time I truly will ever see her. He won’t let her out, and the baby—our baby—Maven will never let it go either. How did he even let this go for so long? If he had been smart, he would have gotten rid of it, remove any and all opposition to his reign. Even if I am in exile and tenuously allied with the Guard, I am still a king by birthright. Nanbel works fast too. In the little bits she feeds me, she tells me that my name is already circulating again.</p><p><em>Nanabel</em>. My heart flutters at the thought of her. She was with them. They are going to Delphie, her strong hold. Even if her last communication was brimming with irritation over the fact that I had yet to truly join her publicly, she had still been my grandmother and had assured me of her allegiance. My hope sinks though when I remember the promise I already made when we agreed on our deal. I would agree to any proposition she made when Mare Barrow was safely back with the Scarlet Guard. Does the deal still hold, or will she demand a greater price for her assistance if I ask again?</p><p>“We’ll never get into that place, even with the diminished security he has. Command won’t run an operation on the word of someone they don’t know personally.” Farley murmurs, an apology in her tone even if it’s not crystal clear who she’s saying it to. I know deep down she has pushed to rescue Mare as a means of honoring Shade, and to make sure the Barrow family doesn’t lose one more child. So, she may be apologizing to his spirit and to them. On the surface though, she may be apologizing to me.</p><p>Gritting my teeth, I push to my feet. “I won’t go through them then.” I wont get assistance from anyone else but Nanabel at this point. She is my last and only option. She has no love for Mare, I know that for a fact. My feelings toward Mare are an enigma and a hurdle for her to clear as far as my grandmother is concerned. She hasn’t made an inclination that she will go against me because of them though.</p><p>“So you’ll storm the place yourself?” This time when Farley’s laughs, it’s a bitter sound. She pushes to her feet as well and tilting her head to the side observes me. “You’re one man out here. I've seen you fight, but you will not get through all of them to her.”</p><p>“But there is someone inside with her.” I whisper, realizing that Farley doesn’t really know the extent to my communication with Nanabel. She knows that I spoke with her before Corivum and a few times after that. She does not know that I personally implored Nanabel to aid in rescuing Mare from Archeon during the siege. </p><p>Her brows drop over her eyes which narrow dangerously. She doesn’t have to speak to let me know that I now trod on dangerous ground. I have no oath sworn to the Guard, but I have still been an ally, and given information. If I am working with someone on the opposing side, I might as well walk myself to her father’s office and announce that I plan to shoot him in the back right then and there. He hates me already, and only tolerates me because of my knowledge. Any move behind his back is a move against the Guard. The punishment he delivers will be quick and severe, but it is worth the risk. <em>Anything</em> is worth the risk right now.</p><p>“My grandmother will help.” I assure her, but those words don’t change her expression.</p><p>“And what will be the price?” Her voice drops to a low octave, a warning all its own.</p><p>I dig my nails into my palms to keep from snapping my wrists together like I normally do. I have no answer to that question, I can only hope that I can still pay it without compromising my position in the Guard as it stands. I still need to at least see Mare once more. I will do anything to see her safe, pay any price for her freedom and my child's.</p><p>“Then I alone will pay it.” I inch back, giving ground under the intensity of Farley's stare. She has to know that even if she tries to stop me, I have already made up my mind. I will go through with this plan, threat of her father or not. There is no price too great. My child’s life has no measure, and neither does Mare’s, regardless of what Command or the Colonel may think.</p><p>As if sensing that thought as it crosses my mind, Farley’s face softens. She expels the rest of her fury in a quiet sigh that I feel in my own soul. When she meets my gaze again, she nods infinitesimally.</p><p>“Do what you must, but know that I will not be able to save you when the time comes for vindication.” </p><p>I can only muster a weak smile at her words. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”</p><p>The corner of her mouth quirks up in her own version of a smile until her eyes sweep over me. “Never thought I would congratulate you on having a child, but I doubt Barrow will let you put it in any line of succession.”</p><p>That brings a true smile my lips, and a faint blush to my cheeks. I hadn’t even thought of that. My child sits in my line of succession even if I am removed from it. I don’t want it anywhere near that throne though, or the wolves that circle it. No doubt when Nanabel finds out the truth she will try to change that fact, but I'll cross that bridge-or burn it-when I get there. </p><p>Farley sighs again and turning from the tent, she waves a hand over her shoulder. “Clean up your mess, Calore.”</p><p>I stay rooted to the spot as she leaves, a foreign, warm feeling creeping through me until it fills every corner of my soul and spills out in gentle waves of heat. Even with everything horrible that has occurred around us, there is… something good that came out of my relationship with Mare. Still, that thought is tempered by the fact that I have put her in such a horrifically dangerous position with Maven that I might as well have been the one to hand her over to him. My smile falls and the feeling dies as I realize the role I have played in whatever punishment he delivered. The least I can do for Mare at this point is pull her out of that cage and put her safely with her family. Maybe then she will forgive me for this whole thing. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Part 9 (Cal)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ho boi... it's here. She be done. 😳 Enjoy you gremlins. Mind the E rating please (((:</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song for this part is Talk by Hozier. I don't know why but that was the mood, and it really seems to speak to these two. So without further ado, the smut you all were promised 😏</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part 9</strong>
</p>
<p>Sleep evades me at every turn. I have long given up on trying to force myself to chase dreams too. They only turn around to snap at my neck and clamp talons into my already aching chest. I have so little strength left tonight to fight off the nightmares that plague me. I spend most of it simply staying alive during the day, and really don’t want to face the carnage of waking up in sweat soaked sheets and too cold darkness.</p>
<p>Facing the wall of the small room I have taken residence in, I try to determine if it’s too early for me to get up and leave the safety and warmth of the Notch, or if it’s too late to do the same thing. I hate this point when it’s not acceptable to get up yet. I would feel horrible if I got up and woke any of the little too. Nanny’s had enough on her plate today without me adding to it.</p>
<p>Rolling over to face the ceiling I squint through the dark at the crack the runs through the rock above my head. The first night I slept here, I laid awake waiting for the whole room to cave in on top of me. At some point, when I had drifted off, I wondered if it would simply be better for that to happen. If by some miracle that would make things better. Of course, it hadn’t. I’d still woken up the next morning gasping for breath with my hands clenching the sheets into fists. The thin cotton was singed and crumbling between my fingers, but I simply flipped them to the foot of the bed and ignored what it meant.</p>
<p>I used to have nightmares when I was younger. I dreamed of endless white marble halls and always some near silent whisper chasing me through them until I hit a dead end and spun to face a faceless shadow stretching over me. I’d wake with singed sheets or pillow cases, and have to awkwardly avoid the maid’s eye when she came in later. I learned quickly how to hide it after that, and to stop wearing my bracelets to bed.</p>
<p>I can’t do that here though. Every tree branch that cracks or every whistle of wind through the mountain could be one of Maven’s soldiers entering the clearing in front of the Notch. It could be someone discovering us. I have to be ready at all times, which means the bracelets stay on, and I remain on the defensive.</p>
<p>It’s an exhausting exercise.</p>
<p>The creak of the door into my little room catches my attention like a flare in the dark and I spin to an elbow and light my palm with fire. I half expect to see a soldier, or maybe even one of the littles who got spooked and decided to come to me instead of Nanny since I’m a little closer. It’s neither of those though.</p>
<p>In the shadow of the doorway, Mare is smaller than usual. My fire plays tricks with her face, cutting it into sharp lines and angles that don’t fit her. While I know she can be harsh and biting, I have seen the girl under the surface. I’ve seen Mare Barrow, the girl the Little Lightning Girl keeps tucked away to protect her from any further injury.</p>
<p>For all Mare’s bravo and boisterous words lately, a few of us have already seen the cracks, and we are waiting for the day she shatters. <em>I </em>am waiting for the day she simply explodes into a massive wave of electricity that wipes Norta from the map once and for all. A part of me wants to see it, simply because it would be magnificent; Another part of me, the logical one, tells me she would not hesitate to wipe me off the earth as well. I am still Silver. And even though there are times when I look at her and she smiles softly, I know that she still associates me with years of suffering and grueling misery.  </p>
<p>“Mare.” I breathe, extinguishing the flame with a closed fist. She shuts the door behind her without a word. The soft snores of everyone else disappears, along with the light in the passageway. Every part of me tenses in anticipation, as I listen to her run her hands along the wall until she finds the little gas lamp I keep next to the bed and lights it.</p>
<p>It baths us both in an eerie orange and yellow light, and this close to her, I can see the trenches our time on the run has dug in her face. My hand twitches, wanting to reach out and trace the line of her jaw, her cheek, her nose, anything. I want to just touch her. A more violent part wants to rip her apart and dig for the truth, to know what she is doing in here, what she truly wants. I want to dig to the truth and know what she feels.</p>
<p>“Did I wake you?” She asks quietly, her eyes sliding away from the flame she cups in her hands to freeze me in place. I drown in those dark brown depths for a second, losing all sense of time and space.</p>
<p>When the silence stretches too long, I shake my head quickly, and swallow the rising ache in my chest. “I don’t… sleep much anymore.” I break my gaze from hers to stare at the wall beyond her shoulder where her shadow flickers warily in time with the candle flame.</p>
<p>“Me neither.” She replies before setting the lamp aside and sinking back onto her heels to watch it. With a hand draped in darkness, she reaches up to sweep her braid over her shoulder so it dangles down her back and between her shoulder blades.</p>
<p>I follow the path of her hand to her neck. The scars that branch from her spine are ugly and raised still. There’s no hope that they will fade with time, and while she doesn’t hide them, I know she detests them. I want to touch them. I did once before, when she first woke and every screaming voice in my head finally fell silent.</p>
<p>The need to touch her again burns through me daily. I don’t care how I do it, but I have to touch her. I have to feel her skin against mine in some way. Flashes of her hair splayed out on sheets while her full lips part in a gasp assault me, followed by the exact way her voice would waver as she grabbed the sheets in fists and arched up to press against me. Deep in my stomach something clenches and my pulse quickens with the knowledge of where that image comes from and what it might mean.</p>
<p>I promised her no distractions, and I have kept that promise even though it gets a little harder each day. If nightmares don’t chase me from sleep, it’s her. Thoughts of her, of the smell of her hair and the twisted fantasy of her nails digging into my chest and back, of her gasping my name under me.</p>
<p>Her eyes dart to my face once more, and every nerve in my body fires under the electricity of her gaze. I drop my eyes to avoid sinking into the depths of her again. Even then, I can still feel the power of her stare as it traces a path down to the blanket I’m gripping near my hip.</p>
<p>She holds that spot for a long time before saying, “Don’t you get cold? It’s freezing in here.”</p>
<p>“I don’t get cold.” The husk on the edge of my voice surprises me. <em>By my colors</em>, I’m not some thirteen year old boy driven insane by the idea of a girl. Still, a blush burns across my cheeks as I clamp down on the fire under my skin to keep the heat from escaping and alerting Mare to anything happening inside my mind. If she came here to talk, I don’t want to scare her away with the realization that I might be walking a dangerous line while she is nearby. I want her to think of me as a safe harbor, as a place where she came come to dock when she needs the time to rest.</p>
<p>She’s always been too perceptive for her own good though. With a little tilt of her head she inches closer to me, brushing her fingers along the ground before resting them on my chest. Even though she doesn’t summon her lightning behind that touch, I can feel it strike clean through me, and I splinter underneath her.</p>
<p>Caving backward, I try to escape her touch, only for her to push me up against the stone wall. With lithe movements, she slides her leg across my lap until she’s kneeling at eye level with me as I slide down the wall. I want to be small, to disappear into the dirt and escape this moment, but Mare doesn’t let me.</p>
<p>Her other fingers dance along my arm, and she lets her knuckle drop into the dips between my muscles. Involuntarily, I shiver at her touch. I don’t dare speak though, any sound I make might scare her away. Still, it takes all my effort not to groan as she trails her other hand down my chest and stomach to the blanket I’ve kept carefully pulled across my legs. Thank my colors for it too, because it’s doing a wonderful job hiding any evidence of my previous thoughts.</p>
<p>With a gentle exhale, Mare sinks down onto my thigh and even though I try to clamp down on it, a hitching breath still escapes when I feel her weight settle. She only wears a pair of sleep shorts, no wonder she thinks it’s cold in here. Through the thin cloth of my pants though, and the fabric of her shorts, I can feel a faint pulse against my thigh. Every nerve fires from that point to a point very close to it. I try to shift, but the fabric of my pants is already tightening around the area and I have to bite my cheek and freeze when I realize exactly how sensitive things are becoming down there.</p>
<p>A tilt of her head swings that braid back to the front, and she reaches down to hook the blanket with a finger. “Do you get too warm sometimes?”</p>
<p>She tugs it down slightly, but I grasp her wrist and yank her hand to the side. Forcing even breaths, I whisper, “no distractions.” It sounds too much like a plea for it to be a true statement.</p>
<p>In the shadows created by the lamp behind her, her eyes light with a fire rivaling my own as she purses her lips into tight line. A coy smile plays at her lips a second later though. It the dangerous smile, the one she gives the targets when we train.</p>
<p>Edging closer to me, she frees her hand from my grip and trails her fingers back up my body, hooking the hem of my shirt for a moment so her nails just barely brush my skin. The muscles tense immediately, but the touch is there and gone, a ghost of a feeling before I can really register it. My body’s action is as much in anticipation as it is in reaction.</p>
<p>When she reaches my face she cups it and leans close to press a light kiss against the corner of my mouth. It’s like the touch of a Shiver, because she paralyzes me in an instant.</p>
<p>“I know what I said.” Her breath is warm against my cheek as she traces my cheekbone with the tip of her nose. My entire focus zeroes in on that touch when it reaches my ear. I’m so tense though, that I don’t even register her settle her legs on either side of my hips.</p>
<p>“But what if I told you,” she dips her chin to press a kiss into the tender skin beneath my jaw, “that I wanted you to distract me?”</p>
<p>“I—” the words stick in my throat as she rolls her hips against mine only for her to pause and pull back slightly when she reaches the aching area between my legs. If I weren’t a burner, I would have broken out in a sweat under the heat of her scrutiny. Instead, I set my hands on her hips and pull her closer, hugging her as tight as I dare. I want her pressing against that area again. I want to feel that pulse I sensed on my thigh against other areas.</p>
<p>“I want a distraction.” She whispers as she settles against me again, pressing down on very sensitive areas that makes me catch my lower lip with my teeth to avoid sucking in a breath.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” I murmur even as my hands itch to slide under her thin cotton shirt and touch every inch of skin I can get them on. If we take a step in this direction, there is no going back, no returning to the previous agreement.</p>
<p>She drops her hands to mine and guiding them under her shirt, she sets them flat against her stomach. “Yes. I want you, I promise I want you.”</p>
<p>If it’s a lie, it’s a very good one. A part of me questions it, wants some form of proof. The louder part that was my only company as I sat for hours by her bedside while she recovered from the Sounder screams for this, for a salve to ease the ache in my chest. If it’s a lie, I swallow it like water.</p>
<p>Her skin is soft under my hands, and I can feel my callouses catching on the few nicked scars that decorate her skin. Failed escapes, and getaways from her days in the Stilts no doubt. I want to know the story behind every single one. I want to touch them and kiss them and listen to her tell me everything.</p>
<p>She’s so small in my hands too. I can almost cup her shoulders and ribs at the same time, but she has more muscle on her than I remember from our first meeting. The training is paying off then.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to be gentle.” She murmurs as she drops her temple to my shoulder and presses her lips into the exposed crook of my neck. Her teeth nip for extra measure, and I try to ignore that she sounds impatient.</p>
<p>“What if I want to be?” I retort as I let my thumbs run underneath her breasts. The weight of them settles in my hands, and I hesitate before whisper, “I want to feel you. To know you.”</p>
<p>She pauses from nipping at the skin of my neck, and a strange kinetic stillness settles over her. A heartbeat later, she removes her weight from my lap as she slides back an inch. Without her body pressed against mine, I feel cold, and the ache between my legs doubles. That’s not a good sign, especially if I’ve now pissed her off and scared her away. I should have just kept my mouth shut, should have just done what she said and been a little rough. Instead I opened my mouth and let a little bit of the truth out.</p>
<p>In the semi-darkness, I can’t quite make out her expression, but I can at least distinguish that her brows are drawn together. Her hands close into fists on her thighs and I have to bite back the idea of her legs wrapped around my hips and squeezing when I move just right.</p>
<p>“Do you…” she frowns, and those lovely brown eyes darken as she looks me over, “do you know what you’re doing?”</p>
<p>“What?” I blanch, panic lacing through me as I balk at her on the nose assessment.</p>
<p>“Cal most men would have already had me on my back the minute I told them I wanted a distraction.”</p>
<p>“I’m not most men.” I try to argue, but it’s a poor argument. Her lips still curl up at the corner and she rolls her eyes. Reaching up she fingers her braid, and those lovely fingers pluck strands of it loose as she gazes to the side, deep in thought.</p>
<p>When she finally looks back at me, there is a different darkness swirling in her eyes. Her voice drops to a gentle whisper as she reaches for my hands again. Pulling me off the wall so I have to swing onto my knees, she says, “You’re right, you’re not most men.”</p>
<p>With exaggerated slowness, she sinks back among my sheets and pillow, and her braid falls apart in her hands as she undoes the tie. The dark waves wash over the grey fabric. It’s only a shade lighter than the grey ends of her hair, and I reach out to finger them, brushing my fingers through the wavy curls.</p>
<p>“You want to feel me, then feel me.” She reaches down and tugs her shirt off, exposing her chest and stomach to me. I reel back, a blush rising to my cheeks even as the rest of the blood in my body travels south.</p>
<p>In the low light, the lines of her body are sharp, but the shadows are an illusion. She is soft in so many ways. With each inhale, her breasts rise and the cold air peaks her nipples at the same time that her skin pimples with goosebumps.</p>
<p>Dangerous, this is dangerous. She is dangerous, but she is beautiful and wild and wicked and so many other wonderful things that I have to have her, I have to touch her to know she is real.</p>
<p>The last thing I want to do is hurt her though. So with shaking hands, I reach down and unlatch the bracelets around my wrists. She watches me remove them like a hawk as she props herself up on her elbows. When I set them to the side, she quirks a brow and says, “I didn’t think they came off.”</p>
<p>“They only come off when I feel safe.” I whisper as I slowly swing a leg over her and nudge her back down. It’s an odd truth to tell her, and I see what that vulnerability means as her face relaxes and her expression turns to one of genuine curiosity. Unlike her, I cannot create fire from nothing, the bracelets I have set aside are what give me my power, what put me on semi-equal footing with her. She has every advantage now, and she could take it if she wanted. The curiosity leaves her eyes, only to be replaced with something softer than even that, something akin to understanding.</p>
<p>“I’m safe with you.” She whispers to me before taking my hand and guide it to her chest. “I always feel safe when I’m with you.”</p>
<p>Her skin is only slightly cold under against my skin, chilled from the air of my room. I push a hint of warmth out in response, before dragging my thumb in a leisurely circle. Her eyes immediately flutter closed and her lips part as she balls her hand into a fist on mine. Dropping my lips to hers, I capture her next exhale, enclosing her mouth, and brushing my tongue against her lower lip in time with the next circle of my thumb. I press deeper and harder, and deepen the kiss at the same time.</p>
<p>She groans when I reach her nipple, and turns her head to the side to take a ragged inhale that brushes her chest against mine. That sound undoes me, and I press down, desperate to hear it again. It returns, but so does the ache. I drop my hips in response, pressing against her thigh as I take my own sharp inhale. Pressing harder against the muscle of her thigh when that ache alleviates for a moment, I chase it down at the same time that I grab at her skin and seek purchase. I rest my forehead against her ribs, pressing my lips into the skin of her stomach.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” She laughs breathlessly. The sound travels through her chest to my lips, and draws my eyes up as heat sears across my chest and cheeks. The quirk of her brow and the amusement dancing in her eyes only make it worse too.</p>
<p>“i—” There are no words to explain it, so I swallow my pride and every other retort. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”</p>
<p>“No shame in that.” She teases, and her fingers thread through my hair mussing it further.</p>
<p>Biting my tongue against the snide comment I want to make about know-it-alls, I sit back on my heels to cross my arms over my chest. I’ve made a true fool of myself now, there’s not recovering the moment or anything that might have come with it. But I did get further than I thought I ever would with her. Maybe the fantasies would leave me alone for the night. Judging by the faint twitch of certain areas, that was not a likely possibility.</p>
<p>The blankets shift and her hands press to my forearms as she tries to drag them apart. “No one is good their first time around.” She whispers before forcing my hands to my sides and trailing her fingers back up to my chest. Splaying them across my shoulders, she pulls me back down to trace my lips with her own. “Besides, you weren’t doing too bad.”</p>
<p>I grimace, even as she closes the space between us, and completes the kiss again. It’s a little gentler than the one I gave her moments ago. She doesn’t steal air like the thief I thought she was. Then again, she’s already stolen my heart, I don’t know how she could take anything else.</p>
<p>Her fingers tangle in my hair as she brings her hips up to brush against mine in a touch that tugs on the knot my insides are becoming with each passing second. When she speaks again, her voice is just as rough as mine. “Do you still want to feel everything?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” I groan against her mouth as she grinds against me again, this time pushing her entire body to press into the contours of mine. It’s too much stimulation in too short a time. Shifting, I press my thigh between her legs giving her a platform while I slide an arm around her hips, keeping her pressed against me and against my cock which throbs in time to my heartbeat.</p>
<p>She rubs against my thigh again, riding her shorts up until I can feel the heat between her legs through the fabric of my pants. Exhaling in a sigh, Mare lets her head drop as she whispers, “put me down then and I’ll show you what to do.”</p>
<p>I didn’t even realize that I was practically cradling her off the ground. I set her down immediately, almost eagerly. I don’t want to appear stupidly eager, but if there is going to be something that helps me get through this faster so I can go back to thinking logically about her, then I will do whatever it takes.</p>
<p>Drawing her knees up to her chest, she tugs on her shorts to slides them off, holding my gaze the whole time. She’s breathtaking, and my throat closes as I realize where this is going. Maybe I should pull back, retreat and tell her that this is a mistake. Once we cross this line, there will be no way to return. But with a flick of her ankle she tosses the shorts somewhere in my room, and every thought I have of ripping this moment to shreds, vanishes.</p>
<p>She drops her legs open, bearing everything with a smile as she rests her hand just above her hips, her slender fingers curling into a fists as she says, “You’re going to have to do a little more work if you want what I know you do.”</p>
<p>My mouth goes dry, but I find at least enough sense to nod weakly. Propping herself up, Mare grabs the hem of my shirt and while she pulls me toward her with it, she hikes it up to my ribs. “This has to go too. I don’t like being the only one undressed.”</p>
<p>Scrambling to grab the back of it, I tug it over my head and throw it behind me, my eyes darting to the pool of shadows between her legs, and up to her eyes, only to drop them back to that spot once more. She shifts, letting the light brush across it for a moment as she reaches out a hand to rest her fingers on my stomach. Her touch is cold, but I don’t shiver.</p>
<p>Tracing the line from my hip down to the waistband of my pants, Mare draws her lower lip in with her teeth and lets it slide back out with the same movement. Already her lips are swollen from my brutal attack of them earlier. Even in the dim light they’re red, and they continue to beckon me.</p>
<p>I lean forward to kiss her again to silence the nagging voice that keeps me from doing anything else. She lets me have my way while her teeth nip at my lip and she splays her hand completely over my stomach. I can’t help holding my breath, wanting to make it last as long as possible without having to break away from something as trivial as air. When the muscles tighten under her touch because my lungs scream for air, she balls her hand into a fist and pulls away from the kiss panting.</p>
<p>I watch her as she lets her head loll to the side, observing the shifting lines of her face as she contemplates something. There is so much she doesn’t tell me, but I wish she would. I will never force her to though, I made that promise to myself long ago. She keeps things to herself for a reason, even if it’s a dangerous one.</p>
<p>Her fingers curl around my wrist and she guides my hand to her core, her eyes still closed as she whispers her instructions. “Find the little bundle of nerves at the top and press that gently.”</p>
<p>I’m a masochist and an idiot because I look down as I press my thumb exactly where she directs me. The muscles on the insides of her legs tighten and her nails dig into the skin underneath my wrist as she expels a shaky breath. A thrill goes through me as she drops from her elbows to her back but keeps her grip on my wrist like an iron shackle.</p>
<p>“Little circles, gentle that spot is very—” Her words cut off as her eyes fly open to stare at the ceiling. I press another little wave of heat through my fingers before circling the spot, leaning over her and pushing my cock into her thigh. The pressure eases for a moment, and I take the reprieve to slide my other hand along her leg. Tracing the muscles of her calf to the tendons in her knees and then over her thigh to her hip. She squirms in my grip until I pin her down with a burning hand and slide my finger along the seam of her core.</p>
<p>Her eyes snap down from the ceiling to me. Her pupils swallow any brown, and something in me burns hotter than any sun as the corner of her lips curl into a tiny smile. Without waiting for her instruction, I slide my finger in, watching as she arcs up, groaning as her eyes slide shut again. With a grunt though, she rocks her hips to press into my palm. I press back against her, giving her the friction she wants.</p>
<p>Next to her side, one of her hands curls into the blankets, balling it in her fists as she pants breathlessly, “another one. Put another one in.”</p>
<p>I hesitate, catching the hint of pain on the backend of her words. She squeezes my wrist in affirmation though, urging me on at the same time that she grinds her hips against my palm. I do as she says, and slide a second finger in as she slides backwards. She shudders around me, and her shoulders arch as she moans again. There’s no sound like it, and I fear that no other sound will ever thrill me like the mix of my name and the breathless curse she releases.  </p>
<p>For a second, her nails dig into the skin of my wrist, as she whispers something that I don’t catch. Already I can feel her stretching around me though, accommodating the extra give.</p>
<p>“Gentle, move gently.” She whispers before pressing into my palm again and trying to squeezing her legs together. Curling my fingers, I both feel and see her core tighten as she drags her nails through the blanket next to her hips. A faint whine escapes before she speaks again.</p>
<p>“Continuously, do it continuously and I’ll tell you when to stop.”</p>
<p>The moment I start though, I realize I don’t even want to hear her tell me to stop. She squirms and writhes, panting as she whispers my name between instructions. Every time she says it sends a thrill through me. It travels down and builds on the already terrifying desire taking shape in me. It hurts, but by my colors do I want to find the peak of this feeling. I want to send her over the edge so she shatters into a hundred pieces that I get to put back together.</p>
<p>I drop a hand to her thigh and squeeze to immobilize her when she wiggles too much and almost slides off my fingers. Her head turns to the side again as she pants and moves with me.</p>
<p>The acid taste in the back of my throat comes out of nowhere, while something akin to oil pools in my stomach and turns every inhale sour. I’m not possessive. I’ve never considered myself domineering, but in this moment when I know his face might be floating through her mind I can’t take her looking away.</p>
<p>Pulling her hand off of mine, I slam it into the pillow above her head, making her gasp. The sound sends a burning spike of excitement through me that I clamp down on, scared of what that emotion means. I didn’t hurt her, I made sure not to squeeze too tight or push her wrists too hard into the hard mat, I’m sure it’s just surprise. But I want to surprise her like that again, get that same gasp out of her.</p>
<p>“Look at me, I want you to look at me,” I don’t know where that demand sprouts from, but I can feel the words budding in my throat before they spill out of me on the tail end of my panting breaths. They burn a trailing of yearning from my stomach, and I hate that it sounds like I’m begging. I don’t want this moment to be coated in forced intimacy.</p>
<p>Her eyes flutter open, and flash in the low light of the lamp. The dark chocolate in them melts as she meets my gaze and arching her back, grinds against my hand. Every thought leaves my mind and tumbles past my lips in groan when she pushes her leg out to press harder against my cock.</p>
<p>Her lips curl up in a smile that could either burn the world to the ground or rebuild it entirely after my reaction. “Any other requests General?”</p>
<p>“Don’t call me that.” I pant before hunching over her and going straight for her neck. Her skin is soft and a thin coat of sweat is beginning to form, but as I trail my lips toward her jaw, I can feel the edges of her scars, the ones that bother her more than she ever lets on. “I’m Cal with you. I’ll always just be Cal.”</p>
<p>She pauses, her smile falling to a curious gaze. Reaching up to cup my jaw she turns me to face her. My stomach swoops at the proximity, at the way her eyes bore into mine. “If it’s the name you choose, then it is yours.”</p>
<p>I don’t quite understand what she means, but I can tell there is a serious weight to her words. It almost taints the moment, almost makes me back away. But she presses her thumb into my jaw and then cranes her neck to kiss at my neck. With nipping teeth, she begins to leave her own mark as I exhale shakily. The pressure is building into too much, and I’m worried that if she wants anything else from me, I might not be able to give it. I'm terrified I'll finish from simply being in proximity to her. That might be a little too embarrassing to ever live down with her. </p>
<p>“I want you, I want all of you.” I whisper in her ear and slide my fingers out of her. She coated me and I bring the fingers up to taste them, to taste her. She whimpers when I grind my hips against hers to punctuate my point as I pull my fingers out of my mouth and grip her hip. My fingers are still wet, and the fabric of my pants is no better after I roll my hips against her once more, letting how know just how ready I am for the next part of this.</p>
<p>Her eyes widen a fraction as I simply put all my weight behind my final roll and hold, panting as I try to ease the throbbing second heartbeat I now have. She trails a hand down my back, tracing the line of my spine to the waistband of my pants, and I shudder at her touch and the faint sparks of electricity she releases.</p>
<p>Her fingers dip underneath the waist band and then slide to the front. With a whisper, she presses another kiss into my jaw. “Then have me. I’m yours.”</p>
<p>Again, it could be a lie. It could be the truth. But I am so deep in the woods now, lost to all reason that I don’t care. I want her, and I will have her, all of her. I will <em>make </em>her understand what I feel.</p>
<p>Pushing off of her, I untie the pants and slide them down before kicking them to the side. Her throat bobs for a second and with hesitant fingers she traces the lines along my hips, pausing. When I look back up at her, she draws the tip of her tongue along her swollen lip.</p>
<p>Leaning over her, I wait for a signal from her, or some instruction. She watches me though, warily, like a rabbit would a wolf that just entered the same clearing. As I line up with her opening though, I drop over her to press a kiss between her eyes. “I’ll never hurt you, I swear on my colors I never will.”</p>
<p>She lets out a low sound from deep in the back of her throat as I slide in. Halfway though, that groan turns into a breathless cry as she grabs my shoulder and digs her nails in to leave crescents. She tightens against me, and her whole body contracts as I try to nudge a little further. She stabs her nails in deeper while her free hand reaches above her head to squeeze the pillow until her knuckles turn white.</p>
<p>I pull out a fraction, panic coursing through me. I just swore not to hurt her, and then went and did exactly that. Her eyes fly open and she pants as she pulls on my shoulder, trying to drag me back. “It’s okay, you’re okay. It feels good.”</p>
<p>Thrusting forward a little more hesitantly to avoid the possibility of hurting her, I feel her scramble to grab my other shoulder at the same time that her knees grab my sides and squeeze. I get a little further this time though, and I take that as some consolation. I want to get deeper though, I want to bury myself in her and stay there. She’s warm and tight and oh so very real. It’s as if I’ve been adrift for these few weeks, and have now finally been pulled back to the ground while I'm inside her. </p>
<p>I rock back and shove deeper, earning a whine from her as she finally relaxes and lets me slide all the way in. Our hips snap together and I exhale in surprise. Pulling out a fraction, I thrust forward again, feeling her tighten and then loosen with the movement. She groans my name before yanking me down to smash her lips against mine. We battle like that for a moment while I rock back and forth. Each connection of our hips earning a sound from her that spurs me on.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take all that much for me to get to the point where I feel like I might burst. I draw back to pull away. I may not be an expert in these things, but I know enough to know what the consequences of staying in her might be.</p>
<p>“Stay—” she whines when I try to pull out and break away. Immediately her nails dig into my skin and score down my sides to my hips as she forcibly keep us together. I grunt, even though every part of me is begging her to do that with her nails again. Squeezing the sheets into my first near her head, I drop my chin to my chest trying to dispel the quivering in my shoulders.</p>
<p>Mare pushes on though. Locking her ankles together and squeezing her thighs into my sides, she scores her nails back up to my neck as she forces me to look up and meet her gaze. There is nothing but steel resolve there, and if I look just below the surface of that, the same desire in my eyes reflecting back.</p>
<p>“Stay inside me. I want you to stay with me.” She pants as she delicately slides her fingers into my hair.</p>
<p>I need no further encouragement as I thrust deeper, earning a gasp from her as our hips smack together and she drops her head. She arches until her sweat slick skin meets mine, and her breasts just barely brush against my chest. I want more though. I want her entire body pushed up against mine.</p>
<p>Putting almost all my weight on her, I press her back down to the bed as I drop to my elbows to grab her earlobe with my teeth and pull. With a pleased, high pitched whine from her throat, she knots her fingers in my hair and yanks in response.</p>
<p>“Always,” I whisper to her as I nip at her jaw and then leave a kiss behind as an apology. “I’ll always stay with you.” I draw back to thrust again, and she gasps at the force behind my movement when our hips meet again.</p>
<p>Her eyelids flutter as she drops a hand to my shoulder and squeezes. “Faster,” she pants as she tries to pull away and do it herself. “Go faster.”</p>
<p>“So needy.” I tease with a little laugh before pulling back and picking up the pace. Underneath me, she whimpers and pants in time with each movement. Somehow this is all better than any dream or fantasy. She is warm, and real in my hands and her skin burns as much as mine. Every second I spend in her is like an eternity, and I want it to last longer than anything I’ve ever done before.</p>
<p>But I’m ill prepared for that kind of battle. It’s too short, she’s not ready, but I am. Groaning her name, I grab her hips to keep her in place as I tense and release every muscle in unison.</p>
<p>She rides that out, her chest rises and falls rapidly before she whispers, “Don’t stop, I’m almost there. Don’t stop.”</p>
<p>Rolling my hips and trying to keep the same pace even though my legs are shaking, I cup her hips to lift her into my lap as much as possible. The shift works, and she clenches around me, at the same time that her nails scrape down my back again. She moans, a mix of my name and some curse as I sit her up all the way. Without skipping a beat she continues to roll her hips and bites my shoulder as she stifles another moan. I let her do it because fuck me if it feels good.  </p>
<p>Next time I’ll make her do it out loud. I’ll make her shout my name instead. Will there even be a next time? I don’t know, but in the moment, I don’t care. This is all I want, her shaking against me, and hugging her body close to mine. Sitting with her this close, her heart beats against my skin. Mine beats in time with hers, coming down from the high as I try to catch my breath. I can picture our hearts like two birds singing to each other through cages.</p>
<p>In the end, it’s easy to pick up her rhythm, and I help lift her up and down until she cups my neck and slides her fingers into my hair.</p>
<p>“I’m done.” She’s breathless, but still finds a way to speak. “You got me.”</p>
<p>Even though she’s still recovering, I bend over to lay her among the blankets before even thinking about disentangling from her. Even then, she can’t let go either. Her fingers trail along my bare wrist and my forearm as I lay behind her and band my arm around her stomach. With a gentle pull, I drag her up against my chest, where I hope she’ll stay for the rest of the night.</p>
<p>She curls into me, and cradles the arm I draped around her. It might be the after effects of what we just did, but she’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment.</p>
<p>I don’t know how much time has passed since we finished. It could have been only minutes, or it could have been hours. But someone might have told the truth when they said all the blood goes south, because there’s not enough oxygen in my brain to filter what leaves my mouth when I finally speak.</p>
<p>“I’ll never leave. I swear on my colors I’ll never leave you.” I press my lips into her shoulder, and the raised edges of her scars spur me on further. “As long as I live, he’ll never touch you again. I’ll tear him to pieces if he tries.”</p>
<p>Her back presses against mine as she takes deep inhales, and she doesn’t even flinch at my words. Did she fall asleep? I hold my breath for a moment, trying to listen for the telltale whisper of her sleeping breaths. And it’s there.</p>
<p>My heart sinks, only to remember that she spent hours training on her own today. She’s exhausted, and it’s late. Of course she’s fallen asleep.</p>
<p>I shift my arm gently so that my thumb is massaging the skin just below her breast as I slowly curl around her, fitting her into the contour of my body. She sits like a puzzle piece I’ve been missing my whole life, a perfect fit, even with the jagged edges.</p>
<p>“Until we’re dust,” I breathe against her neck as my eyelids drop heavily. “I’ll love you until we’re dust Mare Barrow.”</p>
<p>Right as I drop off to a sleep free of the night terrors at least for now, I think I feel her squeeze my hand in hers and pull it up to rest by her heart.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the final part of this story (((: It is officially complete!!! I'm so exited and just wanted to thank everyone for taking this journey with me (((: You guys have been amazing, and hopefully I see you all again on the next story I'm posting on here. Until then, stay rad y'all.</p>
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